


between us is a chasm too wide to cross (but i'll find my way to you somehow)

by marzipan_bubbles



Category: GOT7, SEVENTEEN (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: M/M, Multi, a ton of other references, fantasy!au, medieval!au, more from seventeen, more tags to come, oh my god that's a lot of references, seventeen are smol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 72,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marzipan_bubbles/pseuds/marzipan_bubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why aren’t you making any move to kill me?”</p>
<p>He doesn’t know how to respond. Why, indeed? There is no plausible reason for Jeon Jungkook to let this archer live (an archer who was clearly trying to collect information on their encampment, to boot). So he stays silent for a moment, thinking it over in his head, and then replies:</p>
<p>“For the same reason you didn’t shoot me that night on the riverbank.”</p>
<p>(Jungkook has a sword, Jimin has a bow, and they're both having second thoughts about fighting in this war)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> edited by my other half [akross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akross) without whom this would be a wreck (thanks fam)
> 
> kookmin because kookmin and fantasy because fantasy and self-indulgent gotbang because i am a piece of shit, plus smol seventeen!!!
> 
> this is my first piece, and i really enjoyed creating the world behind it! there's magic and swords and love all around, so i'm here to satisfy your fantasy cravings if you have them! 
> 
> i hope you enjoy!

_ “All soldiers, advance!” _

 

The signal cry goes up, and all around Jungkook, soldiers leap from their waiting positions to their feet. He follows shortly after, sprinting down the hill towards the unsuspecting village below.

 

For him, it’s hard to imagine that this quaint wooden town is hiding some of the most wanted Irisian fighters this side of the border. Hell, he’s even come here once or twice with his fellow troop members for drinks and laughs. He supposes, though, that every town hides it secrets differently.

 

“Intel reports three key members of the Irisian military forces hiding out somewhere in this village. The civilians have been lying to us about their whereabouts, and therefore innocence cannot be assumed,” Suga had said during the briefing before the raid. “It’s also possible that they are smuggling supplies out to an Irisian unit nearby, so any surplus goods or weapons you find on the raid should be destroyed or confiscated.” 

 

He replays the scene in his mind over and over again as he stops at the nearest building, between two other soldiers who carry torches. He gives them a nod, watches them fall into defensive positions, one pressed against each side of the door. Then, sword in hand, he rams his shoulder into the back door, slamming it open, and steps inside.

 

“We’re here for the Irisian spies!” Jungkook yells into the building; it’s a house, and the family must have been asleep upstairs, because he hears a  _ thump _ from the ceiling, followed by screams of terror. “Hand them over and we will let you go in peace!”

 

There are stumbling footsteps overhead, and then there are figures coming down a shoddy staircase, arms raised in surrender. Jungkook readies his sword, backing out of the doorway until their faces have been illuminated by the torch light. 

 

He falters for a moment; it’s just a mother and her children, two daughters and an infant. But Jungkook steels himself, raises his sword to point at the woman -- this could be a distraction.  “The  _ spies _ ,” he barks out. 

 

The daughters begin to cry, and the mother shakes her head furiously, tears streaming down her face. “We don’t know any spies,” she sobs out, clutching her baby tighter to her chest. “Please, we don’t want trouble, just let us go.”

 

Jungkook presses his lips into a thin line. “We’ll have to search your home first,” he says, jerking his chin at the soldiers behind him. They’re inside the house in an instant, and Jungkook can hear them overturning furniture and yanking open doors in their search.

 

Deep down, Jungkook feels... _ wrong _ about this, holding his sword to the throat of a mother while her children watch. They are so weak and defenseless, and Jungkook is horribly tempted to just let them go.

 

But he can’t. His duty is to his country; and even if this scene stirs discomfort somwhere in his gut, it certainly isn’t the first one to do so, most likely not the last.  _ I am a soldier of Mirn _ , he tells himself, steadying his sword as he hears the ransacking of the home go silent.  _ My duty is to serve my country, no matter the costs.  _

 

The words sound hollow to him.

 

“Sir!” Jungkook is broken out of his thoughts by the shout of one of his soldiers. The sudden noise causes the family to cower, children sniveling in fear and mother collecting them to her sides even closer than before. “Sir!” the same soldier comes to the doorframe, breathless.

 

Jungkook narrows his eyes, sword still trained on the family. “Did you find anyone?”

 

“No, sir,” the soldier pants out. “And no goods or weapons; barely enough food to feed a family here. But someone did attempt to shoot us through one of the windows as we were searching the house, from the main street.”

 

“Looks like we have one of our targets. Let’s go,” Jungkook says, sheathing his sword. The mother of the family sobs in relief, falling to her knees. He spares her only a brief glance before calling out to his soldiers. “To the main street!”

 

One by one, the others run out of the back door of the house; Jungkook counts them off as they exit, and once everyone is out, he begins running down an alley to the main street. From above the buildings, he can see -- and smell -- smoke rising over the village, and the glow of flame against the night sky. Stars, which had been so easily visible before the raid, have vanished completely behind billowing black clouds. Clearly, someone in the troop has found something big.

 

His unit stops just before the main road, and from there they have a clear view of the fire. It’s not just one of the buildings; four or five of them are burning now. The wooden houses with their thatched roofs are no match for the roaring flames. Jungkook can hear screams and yelling, children crying for their parents, coughing from the smoke; and all along the main road the villagers are fleeing in their night clothes; a glance down the road reveals a small river, which people are crossing to safety.

 

A distraught cry behind them snags Jungkook’s attention, and as he whips his head around to determine its cause, he watches as the building they had just entered catches fire, ignited by the floating embers from the main blaze. Suga had said “destroy surplus goods or weapons”, but Jungkook hadn’t expected for the troop to strike lucky so soon. 

 

“Move!” Jungkook yells to his soldiers, and they all file onto the main street in a rush, combining with the flow of civilians moving towards the river. It isn’t long before they’re mostly separated, sandwiched between crying mothers and shouting fathers herding their children to the riverbank. With a jolt, Jungkook realizes that the Irisian spies could have crossed the river by now, and he begins to shove his way through the crowd.

 

Eventually, it becomes too much to push every damn civilian out of his way, so he pauses for a brief moment before casting a light energy spell. 

 

It works wonderfully; the people surrounding him are pushed away, some stumbling to the ground, crying out in shock and pain; not surprising -- energy attacks are always painful to be hit with, even if the one he just casted was light. At least now, Jungkook has a clear view to the riverbank.

 

He’s beginning his advance towards the water when the screams of the crowd escalate even further. Jungkook watches in surprise as the homes on both sides of the river burst into flames. “Who let  _ that _ get out of hand?” he mutters to himself; the point of the raid was to _ find the spies _ , not burn the whole place to the ground. 

 

But Jungkook can’t afford to muse over the idiots in the troop; the fire is burning dangerously close to him. He breaks into a run, taking advantage of the cleared area. When the people converge once again to block his way, he uses yet another spell to clear his path.

 

After a few minutes of alternating energy spells and sprinting, Jungkook finds himself at the riverbank. There is no bridge, which perplexes him for a moment -- did nobody ever think to build one in case of an emergency? But his attention is quickly drawn to movement over the dark water.

 

Barely illuminated by the distant flames are several small boats, which are currently being loaded up with what appear to be women and children. There are men helping them in and pushing them off to the other side. 

 

Jungkook quickly scans the other side of the river; it’s not terribly wide, but the use of boats tells him that it’s too deep to wade across. He can’t immediately recognize any enemy soldiers; all the people on the other riverbank are fleeing with nothing but their families and the clothes on their backs. Instead, he turns his focus to the side he’s currently on.

 

His eyes immediately zone in on a man currently helping people into the boats. He stands apart from the rest of the villagers; his stance is firm, even in the swirling water, and he lifts fully grown women up into the boats with ease. But what gives him away to Jungkook is the sword strapped to his back -- it’s too large to be some family sword kept in the broom closet, and even in the dark, Jungkook can see the sheath holding it is well-made.

 

_ This is one of our spies, _ Jungkook thinks. Wordlessly, he makes his way down the riverbank, drawing his sword, until he has a very clear view of the enemy. He seems to be alone, attention diverted completely to the people he is helping cross the river.

 

Again, Jungkook hesitates.That  _ wrong _ feeling in his stomach begins to swirl again. The people this enemy is helping are helpless and afraid, scrambling away from the destruction  _ Jungkook’s _ troop has caused. He watches lamely as the enemy soldier lifts up two children -- a boy and a girl, faces sooty and streaked with tears -- into the next boat and flashes them a boxy grin, hands pressed to their cheeks in a gesture of comfort.

 

_ Wrong,  _  Jungkook’s conscience whispers.  _ This is wrong. _

 

Once again, the screams around him bring him back to the world of the living. He’s snapped out of his stupor; “Always thinking too damn much,” he berates himself aloud. “Suga would  _ kill _ me if he found out I wasted time.” He hurries down the riverside, shoving people out of his way, until he stands behind his target.

 

“You there!” Jungkook shouts, hoping he can be heard over the chaos. Luckily, he seems to carry over loud and clear, because the other man quickly places one more child into the boat before whipping around and facing Jungkook, stance widened and defensive. 

 

It’s clear in his eyes; this man has been caught, and he knows it. Jungkook presses on. “On behalf of the Mirnian army, I order you to surrender; drop your weapons and raise your hands to your head!” he yells, drawing his sword and pointing it at the man. 

 

The stranger scoffs, raising his chin. “I hope you aren’t used to being obeyed, because I refuse,” he snarls, and then he’s drawing his sword from its sheath. Jungkook  _ nearly _ takes a step back, because the thing is  _ huge _ \-- it can only be a greatsword. He hasn’t seen one since his training days at Volka. But he shakes off his shock; a big sword doesn’t mean anything unless you know how to use it. 

 

“Surrender now, and we’ll let you live,” Jungkook says, tightening his grip. He doubts that this man will just give up, but he always makes an attempt to end conflicts peacefully; no need to spill blood where none is necessary.

 

“‘We’? Kid, this ‘we’ you’re talking about has no intention of letting me  _ live _ ,” the other man spits back. “Maybe  _ you _ do, but not your friends. They didn’t seem have any intention of leaving these people with homes to return to!” Jungkook does flinch at that. The message shoots directly down to that churning sense of  _ wrongdoing _ , but he silences it with all of his will so he can glare directly into his opponent’s eyes.

 

“You probably have a heart in there,” the man says. “It’d be wrong to just kill you, so I’ll try to hack you up as little as possible.” And Jungkook feels his blood run cold. His opponent laughs. “I doubt you can take me without the help of your friends, kid.” 

 

“Don’t call me kid!” Jungkook roars. “I don’t need help to bring someone like  _ you _ down!”

 

The other man laughs darkly. “Try me,  _ brat _ ,” he scoffs --

 

\-- and Jungkook raises his sword, charging the man with everything he has.

 

\--

 

“Jinyoung! Jinyoung!” 

 

Jimin is snapped awake by the cries of a little boy, running up the stairs to where he, Jinyoung, and Taehyung are hiding. “Jinyoung!” the boy says again, out of breath. “They’re here, they’ve found you, you have to run!”

 

_ Gods, no _ , Jimin thinks to himself.  _ Where did we go wrong? _

 

From beside Jimin, Jinyoung swears under his breath. “Not careful enough,” he mutters to himself several times over. Then he raises his head towards the boy, saying “Go now. Alert the rest of the town and evacuate. These soldiers won’t leave much behind them save for ash and smoke.”

 

The little boy squeaks in terror, before running down the staircase. Jimin elbows Jinyoung harshly. “That was  _ mean _ ,” he chides. “Taehyung and I will handle this. Get to the river and hide; you have all the information,” he adds, when Jinyoung narrows his eyes in protest. Jinyoung still hesitates to move, so Jimin shoves him towards the window. “ _ Go _ , you idiot! If we get caught I want to go down knowing that we died for a good reason.”

 

“We’ll follow you as soon as we can,” Taehyung adds. He‘s strapping his sword to his back. 

 

“...Fine. But I  _ only _ want you two getting the message out to the villagers. Once they’re all moving to the riverside, I want you  _ across that damn river _ , understood?” Jinyoung snaps, waving one of his hands at them. The other clutches his tome tightly. 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jimin drawls, placing his sheath of arrows over his back and tying his sword to his belt. He’s so used to Jinyoung’s persistent mothering at this point, even though Jinyoung (almost) always is right to worry. He plucks out a few arrows and grabs his bow. “We’ll be there.”

 

“I have to come back, yeah?” Taehyung snorts. “Hobi would come find me to kill me himself if I let myself get caught.” He runs towards the stairs, motioning for Jimin to follow. 

 

Before he descends, Jimin turns towards Jinyoung, who’s clambering out the window. “Hey, Jinyoung!” 

 

“What?” comes the terse reply.

 

“Don’t get shot again,” Jimin laughs, before leaping down the staircase; he doesn’t catch Jinyoung’s answer. When they reach the bottom floor, they find it empty, and the back door swinging open; at least the family has fled by now.

 

From the windows of the bottom floor, Jimin can already see chaos in the streets. There’s a faint glow coming from further down the road.

 

“Fire,” he breathes, nocking an arrow. He crouches down beside the door, motioning to Taehyung; a second later, Taehyung has the door kicked open, and then they’re moving along the main street as quickly as they can, doing their best to blend in with the growing crowd of fleeing villagers.

 

“Looks like we won’t need to worry about informing the villagers,” Taehyung shouts over the screams, while gently guiding some children in front of him to the water. 

 

“It’s way too late,” Jimin yells back. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches violent movement inside one of the houses, and then the gleam of plate armor.  _ Those bastards, _ he swears, slowing to a halt.

 

Wordlessly, he draws his arrow and fires into one of the open windows of the house. The shouts of surprised soldiers tell him he missed his target; he curses, but doesn’t chance another shot. He’s already given himself away.

 

He and Taehyung reach the riverbank before the bulk of the crowd; they share a look of despair after glancing over the few boats tied to the riverbank.  _ These won’t be able to support the fleeing masses _ , Jimin groans inwardly. 

 

“Jimin! Look!” Taehyung is pointing across the way, Jimin’s eyes quickly find what he’s talking about.

 

On the opposite side, they see a wet trail through the grass, and another boat dragged halfway up the bank -- Jinyoung has made it to the other side safely. Jimin and Taehyung share another glance.

 

“I know Jinyoung said only to warn the villagers,” Taehyung starts with a grimace.

 

“ -- but it’s not like we were actually able to do that,” Jimin adds. Taehyung nods; he jumps off the riverbank and wades towards the boats.

 

“We have to help them,” he says. Jimin copies his movements -- the water rises up to his thighs -- just as the first people are beginning to stumble down to the water’s edge.

 

“Here!” he shouts, trying to get their attention. “Women and children first!” Thankfully, the villagers are quick to understand, and in no time they have a system going: one man steers each boat while Jimin and Taehyung load women and children into them.

 

Soon, there’s a steady stream of people crossing the river, and the numbers on the safe side are growing rapidly. They’re even able to bring over the boat Jinyoung had left on the other side, considerably assisting the pace of the evacuation.

 

But then, the screaming from the villagers crescendoes impossibly higher, and as Jimin glances behind him, he catches the glint of metal -- off a sword or armor, he can’t tell; but they’ve been found, and that means their time has run out.

 

One of the civilians beside him makes the same realization a second later. “Go,” he urges. “We can take care of things here.”

 

“Taehyung!” Jimin calls out, lifting one last woman into the boat. “We need to move!”

 

Taehyung is occupied with pushing off a full boat. “You go!” he yells back. “I’ll catch up on the next boat!” 

 

Jimin presses his lips into a thin line; it’s  _ dangerous _ to separate, but he hauls himself into the boat he was just helping to load up after a brief moment of hesitation. “Hurry up!” he yells. “They’re close!” Taehyung’s reply is lost in the shouting.

 

Once the boat has reached the opposite bank, Jimin leaps out first, arms extended to help the other occupants out, but one of the women in the boat brushes his hands away.

 

“We can get out fine,” she insists. “You need to get to the cover of the trees; they’ll see you if you don’t, and then we’re all doomed.”

 

“I -- thank you,” he says, letting his arms fall away. He dips his head in gratitude before climbing up the bank to flat land. Instantly, he drops to his stomach on the ground to hide himself behind the tall grass.  He does his best to crawl towards the treeline.  _ Why is it so fucking far away, _ he complains inwardly.  _ No, trees can’t be close to the water! What an inconvenience  _ that _ would be. _

 

After what seems like an entire lifetime spent scrabbling in the dirt, Jimin reaches the treeline, rising to his knees and then his feet to run further into the forest. It’s only a few moments later that he realizes Taehyung isn’t right behind him, and he’s turning around to search for him when --

 

“You  _ idiots _ , I told you to book it over here!” hisses Jinyoung, who’s practically materialized out of thin air to grab at Jimin’s arm. Jimin is pretty sure he almost pisses himself, he’s so fucking surprised.

 

“ _ Gods _ , Jinyoung!” he yelps, jerking back. “If you hadn’t grabbed my arm I would have fucking  _ shot _ you!” 

 

“Maybe you should have,” Jinyoung sighs, letting go. “I got us into this mess, after all. Where’s Taehyung? We need to go,  _ now _ .”

 

“I -- I don’t know. The boats were too full for him to go with me; he said he’d catch up.” Jimin feels a queasiness in his stomach. “If Taehyung isn’t here yet…”

 

“...he probably never made it across the fucking river,” Jinyoung finishes for him. “ _ Damnit _ , Taehyung! Always gotta play the fucking hero,” he groans, and Jimin feels his heart drop to his feet.

 

“I’ll go back for him -- ” Jimin says, nocking another arrow and turning in the direction of the river.   
  


“No!” Jinyoung says harshly, and his hand returns to grip Jimin’s arm. “We can’t afford to lose you too.” His eyes are dark with worry and guilt, but Jimin can’t just  _ leave _ Taehyung. 

 

“I won’t get close!” Jimin says indignantly, shrugging off Jinyoung’s hand. “I have to try and save him. He’s our friend, and Hobi would kill me if I didn’t try.” Jinyoung’s face goes flat at the mention of Hoseok, and Jimin winces. “I’m sorry. That was harsh. Look, I’ll be right back; I’m only going to try and pick off some of the soldiers after him; maybe that can clear a path for him to get over.” When Jinyoung makes a move to follow, Jimin pushes a hand into his chest. “Not you. You stay here until I come back,” he says forcefully. “You’re the mission now. If I take too long, get your ass back to camp; I’ll be back.”

 

“Jimin,” Jinyoung protests irritably. “You can’t honestly expect me to let you -- ” but by then Jimin is breaking into a run.

 

“I’m not expecting anything!” Jimin calls back over his shoulder. “I know your big brain will come to its senses on its own!”

 

“Park Jimin!” howls Jinyoung from behind him, but Jimin doesn’t hear footsteps following his own; which is good, because that means  _ Jinyoung sat his ass down and actually listened _ .

 

_ Wonderful, _ Jimin thinks to himself.  _ Now let's hope Taehyung is still around for me to save.  _

 

He can see the village once more through the trees; the flames have reached the last homes on the riverbank. He flinches as the single unburt house blossoms into flickering oranges and yellows.

 

“We did this,” Jimin murmurs, slowing to a halt.  _ Please, tell me I'm not out of time to save Taehyung, too.  _

 

Once he’s reached the very edge of the treeline, he activates his tracking magic; it’ll help him see more clearly and differentiate between Taehyung and the enemy soldiers.

 

The world comes into sharper focus suddenly, and even though it’s the middle of the night, and the fire is discoloring everything, Jimin can see colors and hues as though it’s high noon. He can also make out the shapes along the opposite shore --

 

\-- but what he sees makes his heart drop.

 

Taehyung is on his knees in the mud of the riverbank, surrounded by a ring of enemy soldiers; his sword is nowhere to be seen. There are too many for Jimin to clear away in time -- at least ten -- and some of them are even armed with arrows themselves; who knows whether they might be able to hit Jimin from across the river as well?

 

As Jimin watches, one of the soldiers shoves Taehyung down so that he’s leaning over the ground, and points his sword at the back of his neck. Jimin feels fury boiling up his throat.  _ Hands  _ off, he thinks angrily;  _ fuck it, _ if he dies now, because  _ nobody _ treats his friends, his  _ family _ like that, and he raises his arrow to fire --

 

\-- and then there are shouts (Jimin’s hearing has been enhanced by his magic as well) from the ring of soldiers, and a different soldier comes forward, arms raised in protest. Jimin quickly trains his arrow on this new enemy, but doesn’t fire right away, because this man is...different.

 

The soldier on the other bank who’s stepped forward moves towards the soldier pinning down Taehyung and pushes away his sword from where it points at Taehyung’s neck. Jimin can’t discern exactly what he’s saying, but whatever he says convinces the others to back away and leave Taehyung alone in the ring with the second soldier. 

 

Jimin, bow still aimed at the second soldier, watches in confusion as he says something to Taehyung, before taking a rope from one of his comrades, taking Taehyung’s hands behind him, and tying them up almost…. _ gently. _

 

“What in the name of Livinia..?” Jimin mutters, lips pressed to the arrow’s shaft. The man he sees is perfectly vulnerable, in the middle of that circle. Jimin can see a sliver of skin exposed on the back of his neck, a target he can make easily. Still, he withholds his shot, feeling a strange hesitance about killing this one soldier, like if he does it, he'll live to regret it much later on.

 

And then the whole troop begins to move away, the soldiers surrounding Taehyung. Jimin probably swears with every expression he's ever heard, because  _ he’s missed an opportunity _ . 

 

_ No, scratch that, _ he corrects.  _ I didn't even fucking  _ see  _ one. Not one that would have helped him. _

 

Only two soldiers remain behind: the one who had threatened Taehyung with his sword and the kinder one who had bound his wrists. They share a short, heated exchange, before the Sword soldier walks up the bank to catch up with the rest of their troop. The Kind soldier remains on the riverbank, and Jimin realizes he still has his bow trained on him, still has a clear shot.

 

Jimin could shoot him now, possibly, and let him live so that Jimin can drag him across the river and demand to know where they’re taking Taehyung...but it doesn’t feel  _ right _ . Not after what he just witnessed. 

 

He stands there for a few moments, staring down the Kind soldier down the shaft of the arrow, when suddenly, Kind soldier turns his head towards the treeline -- 

 

\-- and then they’re staring, right into each other’s eyes. Jimin feels a jolt run down his spine (like the time Jinyoung struck him with a lightning spell on accident). There’s something in the Kind soldier’s gaze that strikes Jimin, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. When the soldier tilts his head just the slightest, Jimin feels almost compelled to do the same. As he stares, he lowers his bow and arrow slowly, until it's pointing to the ground in front of him. 

 

Their gazes remain locked for a few moments more, when Jimin comes to his fucking senses and realizes two things: he’s clearly given himself away, which is bad, and this soldier, Kind or not, can easily reveal him to the others with a single cry. 

 

But Kind soldier makes no move to signal his troop or cross the river to Jimin. He just...stands there, staring at him with an absolute fixation, mouth falling slightly open, and the intensity draws Jimin in, makes him hold eye contact for a a few seconds longer.

 

Jimin is tempted to keep staring back; there’s something about this man’s eyes which  _ speak _ to him, move something buried at the bottom of his heart, but sense is rapidly overriding desire, and with great effort he tears himself away from the soldier’s eyes, retreating into the trees, heart heavy with guilt, shame, and confusion.

 

The village still burns behind his back as he flees.

 

 


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhh thank you all so much for leaving comments and kudos! i'm so happy to know that you're enjoying the story <3

Sometimes, it’s so _frustrating_ to be a younger member of the troop.

 

Just because Jungkook is only eighteen does _not_ mean that he spouts off useless nonsense. _Nobody_ in the entire camp will listen to him; he just wants _answers,_ for the love of the Twins!

 

“ _Stupid_ old people,” he spits out, storming out of Jin’s infirmary. “I’m _not_ going crazy; I _didn’t_ hit my goddamn head. I _know_ what I saw.”

 

By now, he’s been told by every single superior member of his troop that he needs rest. “You’re losing it,” Suga had said; “Go see Jin and have him fix your head, or whatever. I don’t have time for this.” “Jungkook,” Namjoon had chided, “These things don’t _happen_. You must have imagined it; go lie down, you need sleep.” “You’re going crazy,” Jaebum had said bluntly, looking up from cleaning his sword. “See Jin right now or I’m going to report you with a case of fever.”

 

So he went to see Jin, and had gotten the same _damn_ response. “Jeon Jungkook, have you been skimping on meals and sleep?” Jin had scolded him, peering into his eyes and pinching the skin of his cheeks (from which Jungkook had recoiled immediately; he isn’t a _kid_ ). “You’re never like this; you’re always so sensible.” Jungkook had left before he could try to apply some salve or cast a healing spell.

 

“I didn’t imagine it!” he says aloud, and several soldiers around him stop to stare. He silences them with a stern look and continues walking (he still hears them whispering in confusion behind him).

 

 _Fine_ , he thinks to himself. _If none of_ them _are going to help me figure this out, I’ll talk to someone who_ will _._

 

Jungkook swiftly makes his way to where the prisoner is being kept. Yugyeom is on watch duty right now, and it’s not like it could hurt to ask the prisoner questions about his friend, too (the archer on the riverbank last night _had_ to have been his friend). _Double the counsel_ , Jungkook supposes.

 

He descends the short flight of stairs, down to the dungeon the troop has set up in a cellar of the fortress (the original stone one had caved in, so they’re making do with what they can). “Yugyeom?” he calls out at the base of the steps. The cellar is dark, illuminated by only a few candles, and Jungkook can’t really see.

 

“Oh, Jungkook. I’m over here,” comes Yugyeom’s reply. And then there’s a candle being lit, and Jungkook can see his face.

 

“Gods, Kyum, it’s so dark down here. Why’d you let the candles go out?” Jungkook laughs breathily, walking towards the candlelight.

 

“I was replacing them,” Yugyeom responds. “Haven’t had the chance to light them again yet. Want to help?” he asks, raising a second candle to the lit one, igniting the wick before offering it to Jungkook.

 

“Sure,” Jungkook says with a shrug. He goes around the cellar trying to find other candles, and once there’s a substantial amount of light in the cellar, he sets the original one down on a table.  Then, he turns to the corner of the room, where the prisoner sits, bound by glyphs and chains around his hands and feet. “Has he started talking yet? We need to know what information they stole,” Jungkook says to Yugyeom.

 

The day before the raid, the troop had been alerted of an attack on a small Mirnian convoy by three Irisian soldiers. Whatever information the convoy had been carrying -- nobody knew exactly what it was, but it’s presumed to have been maps or something of the sort -- had been stolen. The prisoner before them probably knows what was stolen, and its whereabouts now.

 

Yugyeom sighs. “No,” he says frustratedly. “He won’t even give us his damn name.” Jungkook isn’t surprised. The man had fought like a beast before being captured; he was difficult to break then -- it had taken at least six other soldiers to subdue him -- and he is still difficult to break now.

 

The thought makes his heart clench unpleasantly. He hadn't enjoyed seeing them man brought low when they finally defeated him; it didn't give him the satisfaction he’d expected.

 

 _Knock it off and focus_ , he snaps at himself. _You didn't come here to wallow in thought like some philosopher. That's Namjoon’s job._

 

“Figures,” Jungkook shrugs again, doing his best to brush aside his confusing thoughts. “But that’s not what I came here to talk about.”

 

“Hm? Something on your mind?” Yugyeom asks, taking a seat on a wooden stool nearby. “I’m all ears.”

 

“Well,” Jungkook says, huffing. He leans against the table. “Last night, on the riverbank -- you know, when I -- “

 

“ -- kicked ass, mhm, I know,” Yugyeom finishes. Jungkook shoots him a wry stare.

 

“ _Besides_ that, actually. After we captured him -- “ he points at the prisoner in the corner, who raises his head to glare fiercely at the two of them “ -- I stayed behind after talking with one of the other soldiers, the one who was kind of roughhousing him.”

 

“Still don’t see why you made him stop,” Yugyeom cuts in. “Might’ve helped with the interrogation.”

 

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “There’s no point in perpetrating violence for that reason. If he talks, he talks, and if not, that’s just how it goes. We both know better than anyone a tortured prisoner will say anything to make the pain stop.” Yugyeom sighs in response.

 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m just annoyed. This guy is a tough case.”

 

The strain in Yugyeom’s voice tugs a little at Jungkook. Usually, Yugyeom is successful in all his duties, save interrogating this one time. Jungkook himself knows the struggle of maintaining a perfect image; both and and Yugyeom had to present themselves as flawless to even get into the troop, to say nothing of keeping that facade up.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says, honestly. “But can I finish my story?”

 

“Of course you can, idiot,” Yugyeom says. “So what happened?”

 

“Well, I stayed on the riverbank, kind of just thinking to myself about what I’d just done -- hey! Quit laughing. I’m not done!” he says when Yugyeom starts to chuckle.

 

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just -- you and your golden boy image,” the other man snorts.

 

“We’re the _same age_ , and it’s not like you have a reputation to uphold either, now, is it?” Jungkook says waspishly, but there’s not real bite to his words. They often make fun of their shared struggle together. “ _Anyways_ , I was standing on the riverbank, when I got the feeling someone was watching me from afar. So I turned around, and across the river, there was this archer, staring right at me with his arrow practically trained on my head.”

 

“And he didn’t shoot?” Yugyeom asks, incredulous.

 

“No. We just kind of...stared at each other for a few moments. And then he ran off. He _had_ to have been an enemy soldier; he held that bow too well for him to be an amateur. But he kind of just...I don’t know. It felt like he had let _me_ go,” Jungkook admits, “even though he’s the one who fled.”

 

“You realize that sounds...impossible, right?” Yugyeom says. “I’ve never, ever heard of an Irisian soldier who didn’t take the shot when he had one.”

 

Jungkook opens his mouth to reply when a dry voice cuts into their conversation. “It _is_ impossible,” the prisoner rasps from the corner, and both Yugyeom and Jungkook’s heads swivel toward him.

 

“Excuse me?” Jungkook asks, even though he’s pretty sure he heard the prisoner clearly.

 

“I said,” the prisoner emphasizes, sitting up straighter, “that’s _impossible._ That archer you saw? He’s one of my best friends, and he would never hesitate to take a shot when he knows it’ll ring true.”

 

His words bring an embarrassed flush to Jungkook’s cheeks. “I don’t know where this _friend_ of yours is, but that definitely wasn’t him last night, because he let me _live_ ,” he says, annoyed.

 

“Jungkook, are you sure you didn’t imagine it? You didn’t, I don’t know, hit your head on something and hallucinate it?” Yugyeom asks, and Jungkook steps forward, feeling even more frustrated than before.

 

“ _No_ , I _know_ what I saw, and what happened, and what _didn’t_ happen. That archer was _there,_ and so was I, but somehow we both ended up walking away unharmed. Of all the people in this camp,” Jungkook huffs, gesturing at Yugyeom, “I thought _you_ might believe me and help me understand _why._ ”

 

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound condescending,” Yugyeom says, holding his hands up defensively. “I just...it sounds crazy, y’know?”

 

“I _know_ ,” Jungkook mutters, running a hand through his hair. Yugyeom just purses his lips and shakes his head, shrugging; Jungkook understands that he probably doesn’t have answers any more than himself does.

 

Instead, he turns to the prisoner, who’s probably the only one here in this entire camp who can help Jungkook. Slowly, he approaches the man, and then kneels down in front of him.

 

“I just want to understand what happened,” Jungkook says to the prisoner. “Please; why did he spare me? Why wouldn’t he shoot me? I was a sitting duck there.”

 

The prisoner is silent for a long time. Jungkook eventually sits down cross-legged in front of him; it’s so quiet he can hear his own breathing, and Yugyeom breathing from behind him, too.

 

Just when Jungkook is ready to give up, the prisoner looks him in the eye. “You know, for someone who fought so ferociously on the river, you’re very quick to beg.” Jungkook feels the burn of the insult immediately.

 

“Wha -- I swear, I try to make _peace_ and _this_ is what I --”

 

“Oh, shut up. You want my answer?” the prisoner breaks in. Jungkook shuts his mouth, and the other man smirks in amusement, shifting around. The glyph stones around his feet glow a little when he moves, tightening his bonds in response; this makes him grit his teeth in irritation.

 

“My answer is that you’re a fool. If I were in your position, I would have killed him right away, regardless of whether or not he held back his shot. So if my friend really was there that night, and he didn’t shoot you, and you didn’t shoot him, all I have to say about it is that you’re both _fools_ ,” he spits out the last word bitterly, voice angry.

 

Jungkook is taken aback. “How can you say that about your own friend?” he gawks, aware of how _naive_ it sounds, but he’s still shocked by the bluntness of the remark. He’s never felt such hostility towards any of his troop members, even after the greatest of their screw-ups.

 

“I’m going to _die_ , you know,” the prisoner grunts. “Your superiors will kill me if I don’t give up any information, which I _won’t_ , but that doesn’t mean I’m going to swallow it down without complaint.” He shifts away from Jungkook and Yugyeom. “Now leave me alone. I want to enjoy some sleep before you chop off my head.”

 

The silence following his words hang heavy over Jungkook as he leaves the cellar.

 

\--

 

Jung Hoseok does not take the news that Taehyung has been captured well.

 

For the first day and a half, he sobs like Jimin has never seen anyone sob in his entire life. He’s inconsolable; even Youngjae, that sweet ray of sunshine, can’t calm him down for even a moment.

 

And what makes it worse is that it’s _Hoseok_ crying; Jimin prides himself in being an optimist, and Youngjae is, as already stated, a ray of sunshine, but Hoseok is the _beacon_ of hope in their unit. Always smiling, laughing, screaming for fun, or skipping around camp to help out with chores. It’s a horrible blow to the camp morale.

 

Even more horrible is the _guilt_ Jimin carries. It’s been three days since he and Jinyoung returned from their mission, without Taehyung beside them, and that’s three days for Park Jimin to become the absolute master of self-loathing. Almost every second of the day, he wonders what would have happened if he had stayed behind with Taehyung, or if they had just left the villagers to fend for themselves, or if Jimin would have just _fucking shot all those soldiers_. Maybe then Taehyung would be here, laughing with Hoseok and playing with the local children.

 

Impossible as it is to shake his guilt over Taehyung away, it’s _just_ as difficult to come to terms with the stare-off he shared with that soldier the same night. Jimin can’t explain _why_ he felt wrong about killing him, and definitely not why the other guy didn’t shoot _back_ once he saw Jimin. The confusion eats away at him; coupled with his utter remorse for Taehyung, this mess has kept him lethargic and tired for the past few days.

 

“Jimin,” comes a deep voice from the flap of his tent. Jimin exhales long and deep, closing his eyes, before swinging his legs over the side of the cot and sitting up.

 

“Mark? What can I help you with?” he replies, blinking his eyes open a couple of times.

 

Mark sticks his head into the tent. “Jinyoung’s asking for you. He’s formulating a plan to get Tae out.”

 

“And he wants _me_ there to help him?” scoffs Jimin. He gets up anyways and begins to don his light armor. If Jinyoung wants him now, he probably have time to come back here right afterwards.

 

“Don’t do that,” Mark scolds, eyebrows creasing as he frowns. “Self-pity is disgusting.”

 

“And shame is too?” Jimin retorts, before sighing and turning to face the blonde. “I’m sorry. I just...I feel so fucking _guilty_. There were so many things I could have done differently -- ”

 

“ -- and so many things you can do now to possibly save him,” Mark cuts in, raising his eyebrows at Jimin. “Get your knives and sword. You’ll be gone for a while, most likely.” He leaves the tent, and Jimin is left behind to finish preparing.

 

 _If there’s one thing to appreciate about Mark_ , Jimin thinks to himself, lacing up the leather bracer on his left arm, _it’s that he can kick almost anyone’s ass into gear._

 

When he steps out from the tent, he relishes in the coolness of the night air. There’s a slight breeze blowing, sending the torches and camp fires fluttering. A quick glance around shows him nothing has really changed since he last went outside; most of the soldiers are gathered around fires, speaking in hushed tones, or asleep in their tents, which billow with the gentle wind.

 

Jimin passes by Hoseok’s (and Taheyung’s) tent on his way to Jinyoung’s, and he debates with himself for a few brief moments before quietly entering. He wants to say goodbye, probably, to Hoseok before he goes, and give him his word that he’ll try as hard as he can to bring Taehyung home.

 

When he enters, he’s actually greeted by Youngjae, who’s sitting beside Hoseok’s cot. “Hey, Jimin,” he whispers. “He finally fell asleep. Are you going out?” he asks, obviously taking note of how Jimin is armed.

 

“Yeah,” Jimin nods. “Going to try and rescue Taehyung. Tell him...tell him I’ll do everything I can to bring Tae back. And that I’m sorry.”

 

The sleeping figure in the cot rolls to the other side; Hobi is turning restlessly in his sleep, causing the fur blankets to shift and tangle as he grabs at them tightly. Youngjae’s eyes fill with sorrow and sympathy. “I will. Be safe, okay? It won’t do for you to get caught too.” His words bring a small smile to Jimin’s face.

 

“I’ll be careful,” Jimin says, laughing quietly. He crosses the tent to give Youngjae a strong hug, and then places one of his hands gently on Hobi’s back, rubbing in what he hopes is a soothing motion.  He breathes out a quiet _so sorry,_  before turning back to Youngjae. “You sound just like Jinyoung, you know.”

 

“Is it really that bad?” Youngjae laughs back, before making a shooing motion with his hand.  “Get going! There’s no time to waste. We’ll be here when you get back.”

 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Jimin says, grinning, as he leaves the tent.

 

A short walk later and he’s reached Jinyoung’s tent. He takes a deep breath; _I can do this. I have what it takes to bring Tae home. I_ will _succeed_ , he tells himself several times over, before pulling aside the fabric tent flap and stepping inside.

 

The inside is illuminated by candlelight, revealing maps and books and gods know what other kinds of tactician technology spread haphazardly around the interior; it smells like parchment and leather. Jinyoung himself is standing over the large table in the center, fingers peeking out from beneath the long sleeves of his cloak; Mark leans across it opposite him, dressed in only his tunic and trousers. Both are staring at a large map, overlain with loose sheets of paper with Jinyoung’s notes on them.

 

“Ah, Jimin,” Jinyoung says, not looking up from the table. “Come over here.”

 

Jimin complies, standing to Jinyoung’s left. “What’s the plan, tactician man?” he chirps.

 

“Don’t call me that,” grumbles Jinyoung. “And it’s not really much of a _plan_ yet. But I have an idea of what I want to do.”

 

“Do tell.”

 

“You see,” Jinyoung begins, “the current base of the Mirnian troops we encountered is an old fortress they’ve commandeered, roughly a day’s ride from the village we were hiding at; two from here. The intel I collected says that there’s a small village nearby which might offer assistance to our cause; they don’t like the Mirnians holding power over them.”

 

“So...you want me to rally these people to our cause?” Jimin muses. Not the first time he’s done such a thing, but also surprising; not what he’d expected Jinyoung to assign him.

 

“No, actually; this is a recon assignment. Scout the area; I also want you to find a way into that fortress with the villagers’ help. There’s a man there who knows the place well, and if he’s amenable to our cause, he should be able to help you find a hidden way into that fortress. You’ll have to send a bird our way to signal when you’ve found one. If things go right, and there are secret tunnels below the fortress, my plan is to have you and Hobi break in through there to cause a distraction, and then the rest of our forces with storm and hold on of the less defended gates.”

 

“Secret tunnels,” Mark snorts. “Fun times.”

 

“You only say that because you hate being underground,” Jinyoung retorts. “But besides that, I _need_ you to find out how long they plan on keeping Tae alive. He won’t give information, he’s too stubborn, but that means he’ll outlive his usefulness real quick,” he addresses Jimin, voice urgent. “And if there’s anything you can do to delay his death or even get him out on your own, _do it_. I’m giving you full authority for this mission.”

 

“And full responsibility for seeing it through,” Jimin adds. When Jinyoung flashes him an annoyed look, he laughs. “It’s fine, Jinyoung. I’ll make sure it goes through. And if it doesn’t, I’ll make sure to go down fighting.”

 

“Don’t be dumb,” Mark sighs. “If we end up losing _your_ ass too, you can bet that I will find your dead body, bring you back to life, and kill you again myself, Park Jimin, do you hear me?”

 

“Loud and clear, sir,” Jimin responds. “Anything else I need to know?”

 

“Not that I know of. Just make sure you’re good on arrows, and don’t waste any of them,” Jinyoung shrugs. “It’d be best if you starting moving while it’s still dark. I know you won’t have any problem finding your way around.”

 

Darkness really isn’t a problem for Jimin thanks to his tracking magic, so he nods. He runs a check in his head for things he might need or info that requires clarification, before realizing he’s itching to tell Jinyoung about the soldier on the riverbank. Perhaps they could enlist his help?

 

 _No way, stupid_ , Jimin tells himself. _You can’t trust Mirnian soldiers. Even if they don’t shoot at you._ Jinyoung would tell him the exact same thing, so he turns to leave, when Jinyoung calls out to him.

 

“You have _that look_ again, Jimin. What’s bothering you?”

 

 _Ever the perceptive mother._ Jimin rolls his eyes, but turns to face Jinyoung and Mark. “Nothing. Well, something, but it’s stupid, so there’s no point.”

 

“Spill, Jimin. When something bothers you it’s usually worth hearing,” sighs Jinyoung, fiddling with the sleeves of his cloak.

 

Jimin grimaces. “It’s both guilt and curiosity that’s bugging me about this thing, but the night we lost Taehyung, I watched him get captured.” Jinyoung and Mark nod; this isn’t news. “But I also saw him being handled by one of the soldiers, and that soldier was treating him really well; respectfully, I guess. He stayed behind on the riverbank for a minute, and I had a clear shot at him, but I didn’t take it, because then he was looking right back at me. And by that point, he _definitely_ had a clear shot back at _me_ , but he didn’t take it. We stared for a long time before I fled.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell us this?” Jinyoung asks, frowning. “It’s not like you _not_ be...forthcoming.”

 

An embarrassed blush overcomes Jimin’s face. “To be honest, for the first day I wondered if I had actually imagined it, in some sorry attempt to make myself feel better; convince myself that Tae was going to be treated alright. But it happened, and I don’t know why or how.” He inhales deeply, ready to confess his foolish almost-idea. “I thought, stupidly, that maybe I could find this soldier and enlist his help, because he wasn’t raring to kill me _or_ Tae, but like I said, it was a stupid thought.”

 

There’s a brief silence in the room; Mark and Jinyoung exchange a glance before turning their eyes towards Jimin.

 

“I did give you control of this mission, Jimin, it’s up to you to decide how to plan it out,” Jinyoung starts. “If you’re desperate, you’re free to do as you must, but…”

 

“But Mirnian soldiers _cannot_ be trusted, Jimin,” Mark finishes, and there it is -- Jimin is tempted to roll his eyes again (he _knows_ how stupid it sounds already, yeesh). “Just promise us you’ll be careful. Don’t take any unnecessary moves.” Mark moves from his place at the table to stand beside Jinyoung.

 

“Mhm.” Jimin presses his lips into a tight smile. _I_ did _tell them it was dumb_. His eyes shift back to the table, landing on a ancient-looking tome; Jimin recognizes it as something they’d stolen from the Mirnians. “Any luck with the decryption?” he asks quietly.

 

It’s an old artifact which the Mirnians had unearthed and were in the process of translating; when Jimin, Taehyung, and Jinyoung had attacked the convoy carrying it, they’d picked it up along with maps and battle plans.

 

Unfortunately, none of the other intel had mattered. The maps and plans were old or discarded, but the tome, filled with foreign words and symbols, had drawn Jinyoung’s attention immediately.

 

Jinyoung sighs in frustration. “Very little. Most of what I can understand are the ones decoded by the Mirnians themselves, but their work is deplorable. On my own, I’ve translated some -- things about death and funerals; it has to be more than that, though, because someone put in a lot of work to make sure this thing’s contents weren’t easily understandable. There are magical seals on it.” He glares at the open tome. “Parts of it are damaged, too. Obviously the Mirnians didn’t have high mages -- or any mages at _all_ \-- working on the piece.”

 

“Well, I don’t think the convoy _told_ any mages about it,” Jimin replies. “When we attacked it didn’t seem like they’d informed anyone else about finding it. They had no idea what it was, and neither do we.”

 

Jinyoung closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. “If I was back at the school in Trine, with all those other mages, this would be a lot easier.”

 

“We’re going to do it without their help,” Mark cuts in. He claps his hand to Jinyoung’s shoulder, but his eyes rest on Jimin. “In the meantime, we should be trying to save Tae.” Jinyoung sighs, but nods, hand still resting against his face.

 

“I’ll be on my way, then,” Jimin clips. “I’ll do my best.” He slowly walks back to the two of them, standing in front of them for a brief moment, before clasping them both in a tight hug. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little scared, and these are his _best friends_ (and so are Hobi and Tae and Youngjae and Bambam). So he hugs them for all he’s worth, and they hug him back, probably just as scared as he is.

 

“Good luck,” Mark says, once they’ve pulled apart. He claps his hand to Jimin’s arm. “We’ll be waiting to hear back from you. Y’know, _alive_.”

 

“Thanks,” Jimin snorts. Jinyoung just sighs and presses his hand to his forehead.

 

“Don’t get cocky, I guess?” he says. “Mark took my line.”

 

“Thanks also,” Jimin replies, laughing. He turns to exit the tent, but just as he leaves, Mark calls out to him one last time.

 

“And don’t flirt with enemy soldiers, staring boy!” he says, voice bubbling with contained laughter.

 

“Fucking _thanks_ , I’ll be on my way now!” Jimin yells back at him. “Who does it look like I _am_?” he mutters to himself as he exits the camp.

 

Still, he’s smiling with affection when he crosses into the night, activating his tracking magic and tightening the strap of his sheath around his shoulder.

 

\--

 

No matter how many times he’s tried, Jungkook can’t get any information out of the prisoner.

 

He feels terribly frustrated, and his sympathy for Yugyeom’s plight increases the longer he stays with the cynical captive. Yugyeom was relieved of duty on the fourth day, and the task of wheedling out _anything_ from this man has fallen to Jungkook; it’s now day seven, and he’s still nowhere near success.

 

Outside, the moon has most likely risen, and many of the other troops are probably asleep. Jungkook has shed his plate armor in an effort to make himself more comfortable; it lies in the corner against a wall. He can’t remember how many _hours_ he’s been down here.

 

And honestly, he shouldn’t have to deal with this. Jackson and Jaebum have come down to the cellar numerous times to tell him to just _give up_ already and _rest_ . “I _can’t_ ,” he’d argued back. “I have to keep trying” -- but he doesn’t really know why he does. Jungkook refuses to use force to retrieve answers, too; Jaebum keeps recommending for Jungkook to just give the prisoner a good slap across the face when he gets mouthy.

 

Even the prisoner has begun to question Jungkook’s persistence. As Jungkook paces the cellar, he speaks out again. “I don’t know why you think you’re going to be able to get things out of me,” he says, incredulous.

 

At this point, Jungkook has had enough -- of this guy’s stubbornness, of being told to give up, of not knowing _why_ he’s trying so hard. He whirls on the prisoner, which seems to mildly surprise him; from his seat on the floor he raises an eyebrow at Jungkook.

 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, neither do I!” Jungkook snaps. “I have _no idea_ why I’m _still trying_. I should be leaving you here to rot, or worse, telling Suga that there’s no point in keeping you alive, because you won’t _crack_!”

 

“At least you’re being honest,” snorts the prisoner.

 

“Look, you ungrateful -- ! Ugh. Ugh!” Jungkook drops to a seated position on the floor in front of the prisoner, for probably the thirtieth time tonight. He puts his head into one of his hands, rubbing at his temples. “I...I don’t know why. Why I’m still trying to...to do...I don’t even know what I’m trying to do!”

 

“We’ve got that in common,” the prisoner says with a dry laugh.

 

Jungkook groans low in frustration. It’s true. He has no idea _what_ he’s trying to do, it’s no wonder he doesn’t know _why_.

 

“Maybe it has to do with your friend on the riverbank; I don’t know,” he sighs aloud. Things haven’t been...all too _right_ about him since that encounter. He finds himself drifting into thought more often, and seeks solace in solitude more frequently.

 

The prisoner just scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything, which causes Jungkook to perk up just the slightest; he’s caught his attention, his interest.

 

“Maybe I’m still just stuck wondering why he let me go,” he continues, watching carefully for any signs of reaction. “Who knows? If I hadn’t seen him that night, or if he had shot me, I might not be here trying to save you.”

 

The words are out of his mouth before he can catch their meaning, but the prisoner’s head snaps up immediately, the chains around his ankles and wrists rattling at the motion.

 

“ _Save_ me?” the bound man gawks, jutting his head forward. “You? Trying to _save_ me? Our first encounter, you tried to run me through with your sword, and that’s how I ended up _in_ this entire fucking mess.”

 

“I didn’t mean -- “ Jungkook stops himself. He’d intended to say _I didn’t mean for this to happen_ , but that would be a lie. He had charged knowing full well what would happen to the prisoner when he won. He corrects himself, instead saying quietly, “I didn’t mean to sympathize with you like this.”

 

“Sympathy, huh,” murmurs the prisoner. And then there’s a silence hanging over them both.

 

Wordlessly, Jungkook bemoans his stupid mouth. _Couldn’t keep it shut when it mattered most_ , he scolds himself. But thoughts have begun to swirl in his head without his permission, and in a matter of moments he’s thinking deeply on what he had said -- or what had slipped out without warning.

 

Is it true, Jungkook wonders? Is that what he’s been trying to do, pushing and pushing at this man’s limits for something, anything he can use to save his life? The typical line of questioning -- who is your leader, where is the information you stole, how many soldiers are in your unit -- had quickly slipped into more personal inquiries -- where are you from, do you have any family, _please just tell me your name_. And still, no answer for any of it.

 

Perhaps that’s what makes it so frustrating, when the prisoner refuses to cooperate. _After all_ , Jungkook surmises, _you’re never truly frustrated by something until it becomes important to you_.

 

But then, there is the question of _why_. Jungkook still has no idea _why_ he feels driven to keep  this man alive -- his sworn enemy by all rights.

 

 _It must have been the archer_ , he concludes. The moment he shared with the archer _must_ have changed something within him; for better or worse, however, Jungkook doesn’t know which. And to his annoyance, he still _doesn’t know_ what about the archer has influenced him.

 

“Is this about repaying some sort of debt?”

 

Jungkook blinks, raising his head to squint at the prisoner. “What?”

 

“A debt,” the prisoner says again; his head is tilted slightly to the side, like a curious animal. “He...the archer, I mean; since he spared your life, are you trying to indirectly repay him by saving mine?”

 

“I…” Jungkook can’t think of an answer. “Maybe.” He closes his eyes and thinks hard, thinks about everything that had happened the night of the raid, searching desperately for an answer.

 

The prisoner sighs, and Jungkook opens his eyes to stare at him. This is the most pensive he’s seen the man the entire time he’s been in their custody.

 

“If that _is_ what this whole thing is about, I think you probably repaid him by showing me kindness that night,” the prisoner mutters.

 

Jungkook raises his eyebrows. “How could I not? You might be my enemy, but I watched you saving those children from the fire. Someone who would value the lives of others over his own deserves respect.” _Is that even a question?_ This man, despite his repellant bitterness and unrivaled bullheadedness, still stopped to help others before himself. That’s a trait Jungkook admires, and he hopes that he can act just as selflessly in a similar situation.

 

The prisoner is silent for a long time, even longer than before. In the flickering light of the candles, Jungkook can barely see his face.

 

“You probably have a heart in there,” says the prisoner suddenly, with a light laugh. Jungkook stiffens at first; that’s exactly what he’d said to Jungkook before they fought. But this time, he relaxes, allows himself the tiniest of smiles, and he even laughs slightly with the prisoner, too.

 

“I should hope so,” Jungkook says. “A heart is what makes a man human.”

 

“And humanity is what drives us to help others,” the prisoner murmurs a heartbeat later. Then he lifts his head up, and even though the light is dim, and Jungkook’s eyes are strained, he knows that the prisoner is looking directly into his eyes.

 

“You really want to help me? Not just playing some bullshit nice guy role?” he asks tentatively.

 

His words send energy shooting up Jungkook’s spine. All traces of exhaustion leave his body, because _the prisoner is finally opening up_. “Yes,” he says, scooting closer on the floor, sitting up straight. “Yes, I want to help you. You shouldn’t have to die. Please, just tell me something I can give to my leader, something that’ll convince him to let you go -- ”

 

“I’m not,” the prisoner interrupts, “giving you information. I wasn’t lying the hundred times I told you that before. I _won’t_ betray my country, and I won’t lie to get out of this, because that’ll just get someone else who doesn’t deserve it hurt.”

 

 _Then what can I do?_ Jungkook wants to shout, but he grinds his teeth to keep his mouth shut; he’s afraid if he yells, this new, compliant (well, almost) side of the prisoner will disappear. “What can I do?” he almost whispers, the tension and suspense of _wanting to know_ taking the strength from his voice.

 

“Around my neck,” the prisoner says after a pause. “There’s a necklace. Take it off.”

 

“Excuse me?” Jungkook says. The tension from before completely dissipates, replaced by confusion and incredulity. “That’s all you want? For me to take a necklace off of you?”

 

“Take it off and I’ll explain, idiot,” the prisoner snaps, his glare visible in the fading light.

 

“I -- okay.” Jungkook hesitantly reaches past the glyphs, feels the tingle of the magic on his arms as he enters the enchanted area. The sensation reminds him of his training, and he snaps his arm back in a heartbeat. “Is this a trick?”

 

The prisoner scoffs (he’s very fond of scoffing, like he finds everyone else stupid). “These glyphs are made for _me_ , not _you_ , so even if I could move around and turn the spell back on you, it wouldn’t do anything. I’m bound in place by them, and on top of that I have chains on my arms and legs. Tell me how, exactly, I’m supposed to trick you with _these_ on,” he snaps, moving around to prove his point. Right on cue, the glyph stones at his feet glow brightly, and the wince on the prisoner’s face shows that the magic is tightening around his body, constricting his movements until he’s stone still. “And the necklace is just a plain necklace,” he grits out. “Objects aren’t enchantable. Thought they taught that at military academies.”

 

Jungkook frowns at the barb, but he relaxes a little bit, reassured by simple fact ( _of course_ , he should have known better about the glyphs and that magic can’t affect objects). “Alright,” he says slowly, reaching out his hand once again. “Is there a tie?”

 

“No,” the prisoner clarifies. “Just pull it over my head.” And as Jungkook looks closer, he can see a thin leather cord hanging around the prisoner’s neck, vanishing beneath the fabric of his tunic. At first he tugs hard to try and pull it up, but the prisoner yelps. “Gently! It’s important.”

 

“S-sorry,” Jungkook stutters; he proceeds to gingerly lift it up and over the prisoner’s head. When he draws back, he squints down at the necklace. It’s adorned with twelve simple wooden beads,all shaped like spheres. Jungkook stares even closer at the beads; each one has two initials carved into it. “What do they mean?” he asks, genuinely curious.

 

The prisoner sighs, but this time it sounds fond, and a little sad. “That necklace has one bead for each of my kids, one for my husband, and one for me.”

 

“Holy -- you have _ten kids_?” Jungkook feels his jaw drop of its own volition. _Ten_ is a lot. _Who has that much time on their hands? For_ kids _?_

 

“We take in orphans,” the prisoner says with a slight laugh. “Surprises everyone when we tell them; but they’re not all babies, so that makes it a little easier.”

 

“I -- wow. Um. Okay. So...what do I do with this?” Jungkook holds the necklace in one hand. “Is this supposed to be...what is this supposed to be?”

 

“I want you to get that back to my family,” the prisoner says. Jungkook frowns; what good will that do?

 

“How is that supposed to save your life?” he asks, confused. He bounces the beads in his hand.

 

“It isn’t.”

 

Jungkook’s head shoots up. “What? I thought you -- ”

 

“You said you would help me, so listen,” the prisoner says, and his voice is sharp, but lacking its usual annoyance. “I’m going to die, no matter how hard you try to keep me alive, no matter how many questions you ask; it’ll just delay the inevitable. It’s just...that necklace belongs with the people I love, but I won’t have their last memory of me be tainted by blood from my beheading.” There’s another pause, before the prisoner continues. “They’ll...they’ll understand. It’ll be hard for them, but they’ll understand. It’s how things work in times like these. Our home is in the port city of Eslyn, about four days’ ride south of here.”

 

The pain of his words bounces around inside Jungkook’s head, ringing over and over again. _This man has a family_ , he thinks lamely. _He has ten children and a husband he’s never going to see again, because he’s willing to die to protect his country._

 

Jungkook isn’t sure which is stronger: the sorrow he feels for this stranger’s loss, or the admiration he has for the prisoner’s resolve to die fighting for his own people. Jungkook grips the beads in his hand tightly. “I’ll try,” he says quietly.

 

It explains the man’s bitterness, this necklace; even though he’s willing to die for Irise, he still mourns the loss of his loved ones, and their loss, in turn, of him.

 

“Thank you,” says the prisoner. He begins to lean back, close his eyes, but Jungkook has to ask --

 

“Wait. Your name. Just tell me your name, so I can find your family.” Jungkook swallows, before adding, “So I can tell your children that their father died a hero.”

 

At first, there’s no response from the prisoner. Jungkook waits, and waits, because he won’t leave until he has his answer.

 

“Taehyung,” the prisoner -- Taehyung says, finally. “My name is Taehyung. Thank you, Jungkook.” And then his eyes fall shut all the way.

 

Jungkook sits in silence for a long while, still clutching the beads in his hand, staring at Taehyung’s sleeping form. He breathes in and out slowly, trying his best to calm his rattled nerves.

 

 _Am I really going to do this?_ He asks himself. _Can I do this? Is it wrong? Am I a traitor?_

 

But he knows the answer to all of his questions. This _is_ the right thing to do; he isn't betraying his country in his actions.

 

 _When did it become wrong_ _to want to help others?_ he wonders instead. That's a question he _doesn't_ know how to answer.

 

When he’s sure that he’s steady, Jungkook rises and dresses himself in his armor, but not before donning Taehyung’s necklace and tucking it beneath the fabric of his own tunic. He takes his sword from where it leans against the wall, but before hooking it to his belt, he holds it out in front of himself, unsheathing it just enough to see the gleam of metal.

 

“I swear on Mivellan, I will return this to your family, Taehyung,” Jungkook murmurs; there’s a sudden chill in the air, and he knows that this is an oath he must keep. One does not swear on their patron goddess without following the promise through to the end. He spares one last look at the sleeping prisoner, before sheathing his sword and climbing up the stairs to the ground floor.

 

Outside the door, he finds Jackson leaning against the wooden posts in front of the entrance. “Oh! Jungkookie. Finally had your fill of the guy?” he says, flashing a brilliant grin that’s bright even in the moonlight.

 

But Jungkook doesn’t feel the warmth of his friend’s smile, or even chagrin over the use of his (rather childish) nickname; just nods, and murmurs, “Need some time to myself. Watch over him until I get back.”

 

 _It's strange_ , he thinks; he's always running his mouth to his friends in an attempt to find answers or just to share thoughts, but now, he feels...closed-off. The promise he carries around his neck is private; it's _his_ to keep.

 

Jungkook doesn't like it, this small deception, this facade of normality, that he presents to his comrades, but he _must._ He's not compelled to return the necklace just because he swore an oath; it's because it's the _right thing to_ _do_. Most of his friends just...wouldn't understand.

 

“Sure, sure. Make sure you eat something and rest up a little, you look kind of pale.  I’ll be right down here, okay?” Jackson says, clapping a hand to Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook offers him a weak smile _,_ before walking off towards the back entrance to the fortress.

 

He knows sleep won’t visit him tonight.


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm seriously in awe at how much love you guys have given this story!!!!! i can't thank you all enough for reading and commenting and leaving kudos and bookmarks!!!!! it's a huge boost to my confidence (and subsequently my writing :'))
> 
> seriously though! i can't thank you all enough <3 <3 <3 i hope you enjoy this chapter!!

Typically, Jimin enjoys climbing trees and crawling around their branches to get a better view of the world below. It’s something he’s enjoyed since he was a boy; he’d do it when he was frustrated or sad especially, because seeing the world from the top of the trees always made him feel better.

 

Right now, he isn’t really enjoying it so much. Like usual, he’s climbed the trees surrounding the fortress for a better view (it’s a fairly dense forest, and the trees are huge), but he hasn’t gotten _anything_ out of it. Plus, these trees have really big green leaves that obscure his vision, so he’s struggled to find a spot that he can watch from but which still keeps him hidden.

 

 _The trees back home were more fun to climb, anyways_ , he thinks to himself, staring boredly at the back gate of the fortress. It’s mostly wooden, filling in gaps in the old stone wall. The fortress itself is much the same; wooden structures compliment the holes in the crumbling stone. With all the work done to make it functional again, Jimin guesses that the Mirnian soldiers have had this fortress for quite some time.

 

Jimin had made it to the fortress in a day and a half, which was pretty lucky; he’d found that the river near the burned village split into three smaller ones going northeast, one of which ended close to the fortress, so he’d hitched a ride on a boat, saving him time and energy (and also the poor horse he’d been riding. It was complaining of exhaustion and thirst by the time Jimin had reached the river, so he watered it before telling it to go back to where he’d ‘borrowed’ it from).

 

With the extra time, he’d been able to locate and befriend the man Jinyoung had told him about in the town near the fortress a day ahead of schedule. After some careful questioning -- there were soldiers stationed here and there -- Jimin was able to find him; the man went by “Eric” and nothing else, and he was quite amenable to the Irisian cause.

 

“I don’t like the Mirnians; they take whatever they want when they please. I was really upset when they took the fortress. It was abandoned up until a few months ago,” he told Jimin. “Before that, I went there every day to just explore.”

 

So, while Jimin scouts here, above ground, for weak points in the enemy’s defenses, Eric is currently traversing the secret tunnels, which _do_ exist beneath the fortress. “There are at least seven main tunnels with exits, but some of them have collapsed, and the rest can be unstable,” he’d said. “In ancient times, the soldiers would draw their enemies into the tunnels and collapse them on purpose with special magic, until the enemies had died of suffocation. Then they’d rebuild the tunnels with concordant magic to collapse them again.”

 

A morbid story about tunnels, but Jimin had only had one question: “Are you sure the Mirnian troops haven’t discovered these tunnels yet?”

 

Eric had laughed. “Mirnians are smart, but these are soldiers, and even if they have read up on military history, I can assure you they haven’t read up on the history of this place. You can only find the tunnels if you know what you’re looking for; they’re covered with some kind of cloaking magic, I don’t know _how_ old. The only reason _I_ know they exist is because my family was tasked with the care of the fortress’ secrets.”

 

Jimin is more or less fine with remaining above ground. It’s not that he hates tunnels or confined spaces; he just prefers to be able to move around openly. And the air is definitely fresher up here too.

 

A change in the guard pulls Jimin’s attention away from the arrow he’s picking at, fiddling with its fletching. He tosses the arrow into his gloved hand and moves into a crouch on the tree branch he rests at.

 

It’s nothing too fancy; four guards stand watch on the ground, three more on the ramparts. Not heavily defended, but the guards on the ramparts are what would cause an invading force trouble. A large unit couldn’t hide so easily in the trees, which is what those guards are most likely looking for, so they can alert the fortress; they’re also armed with crossbows. The only reason they haven’t caught Jimin is because it’s dark, he’s alone, and he knows what he’s doing.

 

He stares hard at the routine shift in duty. He’s seen it twice now -- it would appear they change roughly every six hours -- but he has yet to find a way around those damn rampart guards. _I have to be missing something_ , he insists silently.

 

Jimin grinds his teeth together, vexed. _Today is the_ eighth day _since Taehyung was captured_. He doesn’t have much more time, and that’s only if Taehyung is still alive. He’s spent the last two days trying take stock of the enemy (there are between seventy and eighty soldiers manning the fort, from his observations, and around twenty horses) and to pinpoint weaknesses; this back gate clearly is one, but it’s still not enough. Eric had told him that marking the good tunnels for Jimin and Hoseok to use would take roughly two days, and that time is almost up, too.

 

Jimin stares up into the sky. It’s early morning; the sun hasn’t risen yet, but its light is just peeking over the horizon. His tracking magic keeps the world bright and clear, though.

 

The sound of the gates opening snaps his attention right away. He peers down at the ground, trying to see who or what is coming out, and he almost falls off the tree branch, because there’s no way that it’s --

 

\-- the soldier from the riverbank. _No, that’s definitely him._

 

He’s in full plate armor again; _is he on guard duty today?_ Jimin wonders. But that idea is put out when he sees the man say something to the men who _are_ on guard duty, before walking towards the forest, alone.

 

Instinctively, Jimin presses himself closer to the tree trunk, obscuring himself behind the branches. When it becomes clear that the soldier isn’t going to look up, Jimin peers back down at him, trying to get a better picture of what he looks like.

 

The soldier is young, with a heart-shaped jaw and wide, expressive eyes. His hair is brown, parted down the side; some of it falls into his face. He walks with a troubled look on his face, one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other fiddling with something around his neck; probably a necklace of some kind.

 

 _He’s pretty, for a soldier_ , Jimin thinks. _Wait, whoa, hang on. No._

 

Jimin shakes his head. Since when does _he_ care about how others look? _Stupid Mark,_ he thinks. _He fucking jinxed it. ‘Don’t flirt with enemy soldiers,’ haha, very --_

 

“Ack!” Jimin’s line of thought is rudely interrupted by the glare of light, _directly in his eyes_ ; the shine is even more enhanced by his tracking magic _. I’ll be lucky if that didn’t blind me,_ he grumbles to himself, blocking the beam out with his hand, before peeking beyond it to see where it’s coming from.

 

The rising sun is actually reflecting its light off of the armor and weapons of the soldiers, he realizes. They’re also holding their hands over their eyes to shade their vision, too, but they’re all kind of hunched over, like they aren’t used to the sunlight.

 

 _Which...they aren’t_ , realizes Jimin. The weather of Mirn is vastly different than that of Irise, he remembers. Mirn rarely sees sunlight, always overcast; it’s a miracle anything grows there for farming. Here in Irise, the sun is always shining (Jimin has always loved the feeling of its rays on his bare skin).

 

But that’s beside the point; the Mirnian soldiers are unused to the blaring light of the sun.   

 

Jimin’s mind is already rolling; _Jinyoung could use a flash to temporarily blind the guards_ , he thinks. _Then we could take out the ones on the ramparts before they have time to react, and after that the ones on the ground would be a breeze to handle. We’d have the back door in a matter of minutes, and we could do it all before anyone inside would be able to organize full defenses._

 

“ _Thank Livinia_ for the sun,” he whispers aloud. He has his solution; quietly, he drapes his bow over his head, and tucks away the arrow in his hands, before crawling to the tree trunk and slowly climbing down, limb by limb.

 

When he reaches the ground, he arms himself again with his bow and begins silently treading in the direction of the town.

 

_This is such great news. I’ll have to send a message to Jinyoung right away -- or as soon as Eric finished with the tunnels, but that’s going to be done by the end of today. We have everything we need to save Tae._

 

 _That is, assuming he’s still alive_.

 

The grim thought causes Jimin to pause his advance towards the town. He sighs to himself, before straightening his back and shaking his head. _Don’t think bad thoughts,_ he chides. _We have to stay positive._

 

To cheer himself up, Jimin glances around him. He stands in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by a ring of trees. The plants are big and leafy; some of them are already sporting the blossoms of spring, and the grass is new and fresh with dew beneath his feet.

 

“All of these things are alive,” he breathes out. “So Taehyung has to be, too.” Immature logic, perhaps, but Jimin has always done his best to see things as positively as possible. So, if it means looking at nature and making analogies like a little kid, he’ll do it.

 

He spies a bird perched on one of the lower branches of a nearby tree; it’s chirping sweet tunes that are music to Jimin’s ears. He stands there for a while, listening to it sing, drinking in the scenery; the place is full of life, and life will always give Jimin hope.

 

He doesn’t notice right away when the bird stops singing, but the second he does, he knows he’s made a mistake, allowing himself to get lost in the beauty of the forest. Something’s coming, but he doesn’t know what.

 

A twig snapping behind him has him whirling around, and he has an arrow nocked in an instant; hiding is not an option, not in this clearing. _Not paying attention. Big mistake._

 

The bushes rustle in the direction Jimin heard the snap, and he draws his arrow, ready to fire --

 

\--

 

“We’ll have to execute him, then,” Suga sighs. He falls back into his chair, leaning his head on his fist. Jungkook feels his stomach twist in ways he never thought possible. He and the other superior officers of the troop are gathered in the great hall to discuss the fate of their prisoner.

 

“He really won’t budge, huh,” muses Namjoon. “You have to admire his courage and dedication. Never even gave us his name.”

 

 _His name_ , Jungkook thinks, _is Taehyung, and he has ten kids and a husband._ He keeps his mouth shut; he still hasn’t told anyone Taehyung’s name. He feels like Taehyung had trusted him with his name expecting Jungkook to keep it secret, so that’s exactly what Jungkook will do.

 

“We aren’t going to _try_ to force things out of him?” asks Jaebum, quietly. He leans his sword against the chair, resting his chin on the hilt. “The things he knows are important.”

 

“No. The last time we tried torture, we got false information that ended up getting ten men killed. I’m not making that mistake again, and especially not for useless information. And the convoy they attacked hadn’t been in battle for months, it would have had outdated maps and plans anyways,” Suga says firmly. “If he won’t talk, he’s of no use to us anymore. We can’t afford to waste food and water on him.”

 

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. All of Suga’s words are true; it doesn’t make it any easier to accept, though. _It looks like I’ll be making a trip to Eslyn soon_ , he thinks to himself. One of his hands flies to his neck, feeling for the leather cord. _Funny how such a light necklace could feel so heavy to wear_.

 

“When?” asks Yugyeom; he flashes a quick glance at Jungkook, and Jungkook feels his mouth quirk into a humorless smile. Yugyeom knows how hard he tried with Taehyung; Jungkook had confessed to him all of his experience -- save the necklace and the promise he made.

 

“I don’t know. A few days, maybe? We’ll tell him now, see if it changes his mind about keeping silent.” Suga leans forward now, placing his arms on his knees and tucking his hands under his chin. The metal of his armor _clinks_ softly, but it echoes in the emptiness of the hall.

 

“Doubtful,” says Jackson, scratching at the back of his neck. _Impossible,_  thinks Jungkook. Jackson continues. “He refuses to say anything to anyone. Not even our Jungkookie here could handle him, and he’s the most amicable person in this troop. Besides me, of course.”

 

All eyes shift to Jungkook, and he raises his chin. “It’s true,” he says, but of course it’s a lie. Jungkook is terrified that he can tell one so easily; he hates how it rolls off his tongue and hangs in the air, the deception only there for him to see.

 

 _It’s for the right reason_ , he reminds himself, but the bitter taste of the lie remains in his mouth.

 

“Then there’s nothing else to say,” Suga sighs. “I hate to do it, but we can’t just let him go. Schedule his execution for three days from now. I want it done fast.” Namjoon steps over to his side, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Suga sits up at the touch, eyes sweeping over the rest of the members present. “Any questions before we all part ways?”

 

Jungkook would love to question the morality of the whole thing, but he won’t. He might disagree, but he’s still a soldier. He obeys his orders (though he’s not disobeying by fulfilling Taehyung’s last wish).

 

Heads shake all around the small congregation, and Suga stands up. “Good. Jungkook, I want you to inform the prisoner of his execution; you’re relieved from duty after that. Dismissed.”

 

The others begin to stand from their seats, stretching; Jungkook remains where he is. The hall feels cold all of a sudden, like all the warmth has been sucked out of the air.

 

“You coming, Jungkook?” calls Yugyeom, already walking to the door. Jungkook looks up and nods.

 

“Yeah, just need a minute,” Jungkook replies. He’s hyperaware of the leather cord around his neck, hidden by layers of cloth and metal.

 

Yugyeom stops, before walking over to Jungkook to place a hand on his shoulder. “I’m...sorry, Kook. I know how hard you tried. Sometimes, you just can’t convince people to work with you.”

 

 _That’s not why I’m sad_ , Jungkook wants to tell him, but he can’t. Instead, he just exhales, and grins as best he can. “It’ll be a brief blow to my reputation, but I’ll get over it, yeah?” he says, and Yugyeom gives him a wry grin in response.

 

“We both will,” Yugyeom snorts, letting his arm fall to his side. “Did you want me to come with you?”

 

“No!” Jungkook says quickly; too quickly. Yugyeom’s eyebrows shoot up. Jungkook hastily covers up his blunder. “I just...I want to do it myself. It’s only fitting, right?”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Yugyeom says, seemingly satisfied by Jungkook’s response. “Let me know if you change your mind, okay? I’ll be in the kitchens. I have food duty today,” he adds with a smirk.

 

“Ugh, so I guess I won’t be eating,” Jungkook groans jokingly. Yugyeom punches him in the arm.

 

“I’m not _Namjoon_ ,” he says indignantly, folding his arms across his chest.

 

Jungkook just rolls his eyes. “Don’t stab yourself cutting vegetables, okay?” He laughs at Yugyeom’s quiet “yeah, yeah”, and they walk outside together, parting ways at the door.

 

The walk to the makeshift dungeon is too short for Jungkook’s liking. _How will he respond?_ He wonders. _Up until now it was just something hanging in the air...but he’s really going to die. Will he still have the same courage?_

 

He hesitates before entering the open door to the cellar; the guards holding it open don’t seem to notice the pause in his step; if they do, they don’t comment.

 

“Close the door behind me,” Jungkook orders as he begins walking down the steps. The two guards nod, and then Jungkook is plunged into darkness as he makes his way to where Taehyung is.

 

“Taehyung?” he calls out.

 

“Here, as always,” comes the derisive snort. “What news do you have for me today?”

 

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. He takes one of the still-burning candles and begins to light the ones that have gone out.

 

“Suga’s decided your execution will take place three days from now,” Jungkook says, as calmly as he can, once the candles are bright enough to light up Taehyung’s face.  Jungkook wants to see how he reacts, not for any cruel reasons; he just wants to know how the knowledge will affect Taehyung’s strength.

 

Taehyung is quiet at first, scrunching up his nose. “It was going to happen anyways,” he exhales at last. “Thank you for trying.”

 

Jungkook laughs emptily. “I feel like I didn’t try hard enough.”

 

“The only way you’d see me live was if I spilled my brains to you; if anything it’s my stubbornness getting me killed, not your failure.”

 

“Not your stubbornness,” Jungkook corrects. “Your loyalty and dedication.”

 

“Is that some attempt to make me feel better about dying? Trust me, I’m fine.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, and Jungkook takes comfort in the familiar gesture.

 

“Probably more of an attempt to make _me_ feel better, but I’ll take your word for it,” he replies. “Can I get you anything before I go? I’ve been relieved of duty over you; I don’t know who’s going to replace me.”

 

“No. I’ll be fine. Thanks for offering, though.” Taehyung’s voice is steady, but Jungkook wonders how much of it is fake.

 

“Alright. I’ll probably be back to visit before they...execute you.” Jungkook purses his lips. It feels so strange to say. _Then again, it’s strange to sympathize with an enemy at all_.

 

“See you around, Jungkook,” Taehyung says, flashing Jungkook a lopsided grin. “Well, not like I can really go anywhere.”

 

Jungkook laughs. “See you,” he replies, already making his way up the stairs, sparing Taehyung one last look. He looks almost at peace, sitting with his eyes closed and breathing even.

 

When the door shuts behind Jungkook, he feels like there are rocks settling in the pit of his stomach.

 

“I’m going out,” he informs the two guards standing post by the cellar. “If anyone asks for me, let them know I’ll be back before noon.”

 

“Yes, sir,” the two respond in unison. Jungkook turns away without another word and makes his way to the back gate of the fortress.

 

In the past months that Jungkook’s troop has been stationed here, he’s found that the forest offers him the space and quiet he often needs; much as he enjoys being around his friends, he has to take some time to himself to think or just be alone. Hopefully, he can find comfort there today.

 

He stops at the gate, giving a nod to the soldiers manning the door. Slowly, the door opens; Jungkook sees the lush green leaves of the forest rustling gently in the wind; the sun is barely peeking over the horizon.

 

“Sir? Out for a walk?” one of the guards asks as he walks beyond the fortress walls.

 

“I’ll be back before anyone misses me,” Jungkook says without humor. He rests one of his hands on his sword hilt -- sometimes, he questions the safety of going out alone, but he needs the air to breathe, and _especially_ today. Absentmindedly, his other hand finds its way to his neck to grasp Taehyung’s necklace.

 

He lets his feet carry him where they please, remaining lost in his thoughts. Confusion swirls around his head, ruining any attempt he makes to think of other things.

 

 _Why do I even care?_ Jungkook wonders. _Why have I suddenly started caring about right and wrong?_

 

That’s a stupid question; Jungkook has always cared about doing the right thing. He supposes the real question, then, is why does he care so much _now_? He’d never think twice about his duty, trying to help a prisoner like he’s tried to help Taehyung before...

 

...before the damn archer. Jungkook feels his mouth twist down in a frown. Confusion gives way to curiosity, as his memory of the raid floods his mind. He’d barely been able to make out the archer at first, but he’d _known_ someone was watching him, felt eyes burning into his back. And then, when he’d turned around, they had made eye contact. They’d shared a connection.

 

 _What? No, that’s so cliche_ , Jungkook scolds himself, feeling a blush creep into his face without permission. _We...we just understood each other. There was a mutual understanding. Yeah._

 

It had been more than that, though. That ‘understanding’ had done _something_ to Jungkook. He could hardly see the archer’s eyes that night, but at the same time, his eyes were all Jungkook could see.

 

 _And thanks to him, I’m now trying to help the enemy_ , Jungkook grumbles inwardly.

 

Maybe not thanks to him, actually. The encounter with the archer had...awoken something already there in Jungkook. Like he’d amplified Jungkook’s sense of righteousness, or --

 

 _Okay, enough cliche for one walk_.

 

Jungkook keeps walking, deeper and deeper into the forest, head down, as if weighed down by his thinking. He halts when leaves appear in his vision, looking up to see bushes that reach just above his height. For a moment, he considers just going another direction, but his conscience tugs him forward, through the bushes, so he pushes them aside as best he can, making his way beyond their barrier.

 

He’s almost through all the way when the tip of his boot catches on what must be a plant root, and he trips forward, crashing through the brush and tumbling to the ground. “Gah!”

 

When he has his bearings, he raises himself to his knees, and begins to wipe the dirt off of his trousers and armor with his hand. There’s a strange feeling he has, but he can’t place it; he continues to clean himself off, until he realizes that there are eyes on him, and they aren’t friendly.

 

Slowly, he raises his gaze up, and is met with the sharp end of an arrow, a hand’s length away from his face. His eyes trail up the shaft of the arrow, to the face of the person aiming it, and his heart skips a beat.

 

“It’s _you_ ,” Jungkook breathes out. The archer from the riverbank stands in front of him, eyes narrowed, but they quirk into confusion when Jungkook speaks.

 

“You...recognize me?” the archer asks.

 

“Yes! The night on the river -- ” Jungkook begins to move, wants to stand up so he can be face-to-face with the man who spared his life, but the archer takes a step back, and Jungkook can hear him pulling the arrow back further and the sound of the bow straining even more. He immediately stops moving. “Sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you. I just -- I’ve been thinking about you since that night.”

 

The archer doesn’t respond, just shifts in his stance, eyes wary again. Jungkook bites his lip; he just wants to talk, really. “Can I stand up?” he asks, and the archer raises an eyebrow.

 

“And how do I know you won’t just try to kill me if I let you?” he replies, defensive.

 

“I haven’t raised the alarm yet,” Jungkook offers. “I won’t. I just want to talk to you.”

 

Again, the archer is silent; Jungkook decides he’s going to try and move. Very slowly, he pushes up from his knees, crouching, and then even more slowly rising to his full height. The archer keeps his arrow trained on Jungkook’s face the whole way up.

 

Jungkook raises his hands. “I promise, I won’t hurt you, I just -- ”

 

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because the archer is already fleeing, just like before. Jungkook decides that won’t happen this time; today, he’s going to get the answers I need.

 

“Wait!” he calls, taking off after the archer as quickly as he can. “Please! I just wanted to talk to you!” The archer is racing through the trees with grace and speed, something Jungkook doesn’t share with him; his armor, while not a hindrance, does not allow him the same range of movement the archer has. As he runs, he wonders why the archer is here; _no, stupid, he’s obviously trying to scout out the fortress_ , he scolds himself. Despite the implications of the realization, Jungkook keeps running.

 

“Wait!” Jungkook calls again, and he’s weaving around trees and over rocks to try and catch up with the speedy archer. Suddenly, the archer disappears from his sight, just as Jungkook is clambering up over a tree root, anchored in a rock. He clears the rock, landing on the ground beyond it, but as he glances around, there’s no sign of the archer anywhere.

 

“Damn,” Jungkook huffs. He places one of his hands behind his head in an attempt to catch his breath; the short sprint through the forest has him panting hard.

 

There’s the sound of feet behind him, and he whirls around to see the archer crouching on the same tree root Jungkook just climbed over. His arrow is still drawn, aimed at Jungkook. “Why are you following me?” he hisses.

 

Jungkook exhales. “Did you not -- not just hear me yelling that I wanted to talk to you?”

 

“No enemy ever wants to just _talk_ ,” retorts the archer. Jungkook narrows his eyes, slightly annoyed by the archer’s prickly attitude, but also reminded of Taehyung. Distantly, he wonders if the sharpness in their voices is something that all Irisians share. He’s only ever really talked with two.

 

“Well, _I_ do,” Jungkook says, feeling like a bratty child for the way he says it, but he’s _frustrated_. This is the closest he’s come to answers, yet it seems like they’re about to slip out of his grasp. “No enemy ever talks with their opponent this long without drawing a weapon, right?”

 

The corner of the archer’s mouth quirks, for a fraction of a heartbeat. “I guess you’re right. So why, then?”

 

“Why what?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion.

 

“Why aren’t you making any move to kill me?”

 

He doesn’t know how to respond. Why, indeed? There is no plausible reason for Jeon Jungkook to let this archer live (an archer who was clearly trying to collect information on their encampment, to boot). So he stays silent for a moment, thinking it over in his head, and then replies:

 

“For the same reason you didn’t shoot me that night on the riverbank.”

 

The archer lowers his bow the slightest bit, raising an eyebrow. “I thought it was because you wanted to talk.”

 

Jungkook flushes. “Well, yeah! But you asked me and that’s just what came out.” He tries to collect himself. “And besides, it’s true. I couldn’t just... _kill_ you, after you spared me.”

 

“I honestly didn’t think it would affect you _that_ much,” the archer mutters.

 

“Of course it did.” Jungkook scrunches up his nose. “I would be _dead_ right now if it weren’t for you.”

 

The archer purses his lips thoughtfully; Jungkook takes the chance to take a closer look at him. His hair is black and messy, parted just off center, falling just above his eyes, which are a deep hue of brown. He has a slim face, with a nice nose and pretty, plush lips.

 

 _Oh_ , Jungkook thinks, and he feels his cheeks heating up again in embarrassment. He hopes the archer passes it off as something _other_ than shame at the fact that Jungkook was kind of staring at his face.

 

“Drop your weapons, and then we can talk,” the archer says at last. Jungkook complies immediately, moving to loose his sword from his belt, dropping it on the ground beside him, and then unsheathing his knife and dropping that too.

 

“That’s all I have,” Jungkook says, raising up his hands. “You can search me if you want, but those are the only weapons I have right now.”

 

“You travel light, for such a heavily armored soldier,” the archer says, squinting down at Jungkook and the weapons at his feet.

 

“Plate armor isn’t too bad,” Jungkook replies with a breathy laugh. He’s still quite capable of moving around in it, and it offers amazing protection. The set he has on was a gift for his twentieth birthday, and he always wears it with pride.

 

“I can’t imagine being stuffed into something like that,” the archer mutters. But he clearly relaxes, letting his bow go lax and replacing the arrow in the sheath on his back. Cautiously, he jumps down, landing on the ground in front of Jungkook. “What did you want to talk about?” he asks, eyes still wary, but much less than before.

 

“I -- I don’t know where to start,” Jungkook stutters. There’s so much to ask; _why did you spare me? How is it that_ you _could have affected me so much? Have I done the same to you?_ He decides to go with “Why did you spare me?”, because that’ll give the one answer he’s dying to know.

 

The archer shifts uncomfortably. “I spared you because you spared my best friend,” he mutters. Jungkook can’t place the note in his voice; it’s almost as if he’s shy to admit it.

 

“Taehyung,” Jungkook states. The archer nods, shifting some more, before he raises his head to stare right into Jungkook’s eyes.

 

“He told you his name?” he inquires, and there’s a note of disbelief in his voice.

 

“Just me. No one else knows it.” Jungkook lets the words fall from his lips without thinking them through.

 

“What? Why just _you_?” The archer recoils just the slightest bit, like Jungkook is some kind of dead thing he’d prefer not to get close to.

 

“I...I was trying to help him.” Jungkook chews at the inside of his cheek. The guilt from before begins to creep up behind him again, over not being able to save his life.

 

“You were trying to help him? How is he? Is he still alive?” Jungkook is startled by the flurry of questions; a second ago, he never would have thought the archer would talk to much, so animatedly.

 

“Yes, I was trying to keep him alive; he’s fine, he’s alive, but he won’t be for much longer.” Jungkook tries his best to answer as quickly as he can. “They’ve scheduled his execution to be three days from now.”

 

The archer’s jaw drops at exactly the same time Jungkook realizes what he’s just given away. “I was _kidding_ when I suggested that I find you and ask for your help,” the archer says, voice ripe with surprise.

 

“Ask me for -- ask me for help? With _what_?” splutters Jungkook, mortification marring his speech.

 

“I should think the answer is obvious enough,” the archer laughs, placing a hand on his hip.

 

“You’re here to spy on us,” Jungkook says, stupidly. “You’re going to try and rescue Taehyung.”

 

“Spot on,” the archer says, throwing Jungkook a _wink_. Jungkook feels the mortification surging even stronger than before, and then shame, because he’s just betrayed his troop. By accident. But _still_.

 

“Oh, don’t feel bad,” the archer says, tone chiding. “It’s not your fault -- not really. You’re a good person, I think. No normal soldier would be so kind to my friend.”

 

“But I failed him,” blurts out Jungkook, and he blushes hard, because he can’t seem to control his mouth at _all_ around this archer.

 

“Failed him? How so?” The archer actually takes a step closer to Jungkook, and Jungkook doesn’t budge. _I got myself into this mess_ , he thinks. _I have to get myself out._

 

Jungkook swallows, looking down. It’s embarrassing to say aloud to this man, for some strange reason (it wasn’t even embarrassing to say in front of _Taehyung_ , for the love of the Twins). “I...I couldn’t keep him alive. I had -- _have_ \-- this weird desire to just see him _live_. I watched him saving women and children from the fire the night of the raid, and I can’t...think of someone good like that being killed.”

 

“Ah. I see.” The archer’s voice is laden with meaning, and it causes Jungkook to raises his head and look at him again. Jungkook is taller than him, so he’s looking down just slightly at the top of his head, which is bowed. “I guess that’s why.”

 

“That’s why what?” Jungkook frowns, unsure of the message behind the words, despite feeling their depth.

 

“That’s why I spared you the night on the riverbank. Because you were _different_. That night, I felt like if I shot you, I’d regret it for the rest of my life. And I was right. You stood out to me because you’re _good_. You have a sense of right and wrong.”

 

And there it is; Jungkook’s answer. He lets his mouth drop open just a little bit, finally understanding. Really...it’s the answer to _all_ his questions. Why the archer let him live, why _he_ let the archer live, why he’s been so persistent about doing the right thing, why he’s still standing in front of the archer now.

 

“You have it too,” he says quietly. The archer makes a confused noise, looking up at Jungkook, and then they’re staring into each other’s eyes again; Jungkook feels the same tug from the night on the river, feels a connection forming between them with every breath they take.

 

“You have the same goodness in you. That’s why _I_ let _you_ go that night, and why I won’t kill you now. And I think...that goodness might have made me want to become even better, which is why I tried to help Taehyung.” As he speaks, Jungkook knows it’s the truth.

 

“Huh.” The archer doesn’t say anything after that. They stand there for a few moments, still staring, before the archer clears his throat and looks away. Jungkook feels the break in the connection immediately, and he quickly averts his eyes to distract himself.

 

It’s so silent between the two of them; the archer just paces around. Jungkook stands rooted to his spot, but his eyes track the archer’s movements, and he tries to drown out the silence by observing what the archer is wearing: simple leather armor, pauldrons and a cuirass, with a leather arm brace and glove for his shooting hand; two long hunting knives, one on each of his hips. Strapped to his back, a sheathed sword and a capped quiver for arrows. A short, dark green tunic, and tan trousers. Worn leather boots that are laced up to his calves.

 

 _He has nice legs_ , Jungkook thinks to himself, before blinking and shaking his head. _No! No, no, no, no, you’re doing it again!_

 

He tries desperately to think of something else, anything, one hand reaching to scratch his neck to hide his blunder, when his fingers brush the leather cord.

 

“Oh,” he says aloud, gripping the cord, and tugging it gently off of his neck. The archer glances over at him when he speaks, and his eyes immediately fix on Taehyung’s necklace.

 

“Where did you get that?” he asks warily, fingers opening and hand reaching out tentatively, like he isn’t sure if the necklace is real.

 

“Taehyung...Taehyung gave it to me yesterday. He wants me to return it to his family. It belongs with them,” Jungkook answers, voice barely above a whisper. “He…”

 

“He’s ready to die, and that’s why he gave it to you,” the archer breathes. “Can I..?” he reaches again towards the necklace, and Jungkook indulges him, placing the beaded cord gently into the archer’s open palm. As he watches the archer stare at the necklace, a thought occurs to him.

 

“You should take it,” Jungkook says. “Take it back to his family. You’re his best friend, right? I promised him that they’d find their way home. I couldn’t save his life, but I _will_ fulfill his last wish.”

 

The archer purses his lips again, face thoughtful. He closes his fingers over the beads, before taking the necklace and draping it over his shoulders. “Okay. I’ll get it home. But Taehyung isn’t going to die.”

 

A moment goes by before Jungkook gets the implication of his words. “You’re...going to rescue him?”

 

The archer doesn’t respond at all. Jungkook feels cold all of a sudden. “Don’t tell me -- ”

 

“I won’t tell you anything,” interrupts the archer. He stares right into Jungkook’s eyes, and Jungkook freezes, feels like he’s just been hit with an energy attack and is paralyzed by the archer’s fierce gaze. “I’ll only say this: I hope I don’t see you again, because then I’ll have to kill you.”

 

Jungkook feels his mouth drop open, but the archer isn’t done talking; he comes right up to Jungkook, until their faces are separated by only a sliver of space. “But if you squeal to your superiors, I’ll make sure to find you personally, and the last thing you’ll see is my arrow flying at your skull.” His voice is low and dangerous, and despite knowing that this man has a good heart, Jungkook also knows that he will follow through on his threat to save his friend.

 

“I want him to live,” Jungkook lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he speaks. “Taehyung shouldn’t have to die. Just...promise me you won’t kill my friends in cold blood.”

 

The archer grimaces. “No promises. But I’ll try my best. I’m not a murderer.”

 

They share a few more heartbeats just standing like that. Jungkook searches the other man’s eyes, trying to find truth in them, tries to see if he’s being honest. But before he can find what he’s looking for, the archer is moving away.

 

Jungkook blinks himself out of his trance, watching as the archer begins to climb over the rock he was originally perched on, when he realizes --

 

“Wait!” he calls out. The archer pauses and looks back at him. “I don’t know your name.”

 

For a moment, it looks like the archer is going to tell him, but then he says “You don’t need to know. If things go right, we won’t have to see each other ever again.” And then he’s gone, and Jungkook is left alone in the forest.


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things get exciting this chapter :) please enjoy!

“And you’re absolutely  _ sure _ the ground isn’t just going to collapse on us?”

 

Jimin rolls his eyes, leading the way through the tunnels beneath the fortress. “ _ No _ , Hobi, I’m not. Nature doesn’t give two shits about cooperating with humans, so even if Eric judged these tunnels as safe, a random earthquake could happen any time and kill us both.”

 

“ _ That’s _ some positive thinking right there,” Hoseok snorts from behind Jimin. “Can you see alright?”

 

“Of  _ course _ I can. We have a torch and I also have my magic. I’m  _ fine _ .” 

 

“Right, right, sorry.” Jimin knows he shouldn’t have snapped like that, but it’s getting to the point where Hoseok’s blabbering is becoming unbearable. It’s unusual of him to chat away like this on such an important mission, but Jimin supposes that Hoseok is just on edge because this important mission concerns Taehyung. He can practically  _ feel _ waves of nervous energy rolling off of the mage.

 

“Ah, turn here,” Jimin says, taking note of a white chalk cross marking the side of a connecting tunnel to his left. It stands out brightly in the dark, as white always does with tracking magic activated.

 

It’s silent for a peaceful few minutes. Jimin recounts how he sent his message to Jinyoung immediately after returning to the town -- after his encounter with the young soldier (he pushes the memory to the back of his mind for now. He can’t afford to get distracted). He’d called in the help of the fastest falcon he could find -- thankfully, the falcon had been cooperative when it recognized Jimin’s fauna magic as friendly; Jimin could have left that encounter missing an eye. 

 

The falcon had carried his message back to Jinyoung’s encampment within hours, and was soon returning to Jimin with a response --  _ we’re mobilizing now. See you in a day. _ Kind of short and uninformative, in Jimin’s opinion, but then his had only been the bare basics too --  _ Found weaknesses and tunnels to use. Taehyung has three days left. Bring no less than forty soldiers with you, and make sure they’re powerful. Awaiting your reply at town. _

 

He’d omitted, of course, the part where he ran into the soldier from the riverbank again -- after their encounter, Jimin had cursed up a storm, feeling like such an idiot for letting the soldier go.  _ If this fucks up the entire operation,  _ he swore _ , I’m going to kill him first and then throw myself off the Sunset Cliff. _ But something had told him, deep down, that the soldier wouldn’t spill -- a feeling amplified when he had entrusted Jimin with Taehyung’s necklace, which Jimin had returned to Hobi before they entered the tunnels (he hadn’t told Hoseok how it fell into his hands, had lied and said he found them in the forest while scouting; Hobi seemed to buy it).

 

And then Jimin can hear Hoseok inhaling to speak. Jimin prepares for a barrage of nervous comments and useless questions, but --

 

“How big do you think I’ll have to make my attack?” Hoseok asks, voice serious. Jimin is actually stumped by the question.

 

“I’m not sure,” he replies uneasily, continuing to walk through the tunnels; their steps echo around the stony walls. “We’ll have to see the weak spot Eric chose. He  _ told _ me that it wouldn’t need much force to blow up, but we need a pretty big distraction, so…”

 

“Well, we’re supposed to be directly under the courtyard of the fortress, right?” Hoseok recalls the briefing Eric had given them before they’d left for the tunnels to carry out the attack. Jimin nods, and Hoseok continues, “That should be where they keep the horses, if your intel was correct. If I can use an incendiary attack on the weak point, maybe that’ll cause them to panic and bolt. Distraction doubled, yeah?”

 

“Hoseok, you devious human being; that’s so  _ mean _ to the horses,” Jimin chides, flashing Hoseok a glare. And it’s  _ not _ just because he has fauna magic that he sympathizes with the animals; horses are  _ genuinely _ terrified of fire, they’ve told him so, and it’s just not right to mess with anyone’s -- human or animal -- worst fear. And then he scrunches up his nose, because “What do you  _ mean _ , if my intel was correct? I saw them there, clear as day.”

 

“Teasing, Jiminnie. And I promise, it’ll only be this once. I don’t like scaring the horses either, but we have to. For Taetae.” Hoseok’s voice crack’s on his husband’s name, and Jimin bites his lip, looking away. Hoseok is fingering the two necklaces he’s wearing; one is his, and the other Taehyung’s. They’re a matching pair, a symbol of the tight bond the couple shares, and the love they have for their family (which Jimin always jokes is getting  _ too _ big, but neither of them are fazed by it).

 

“For Tae,” Jimin echoes, and they remain silent for the rest of the trek underground.

 

When they reach Eric’s chosen spot, marked by a giant chalk circle on the ground, both JImin and Hoseok stare up at the rock ceiling. They stand in a small cavern, no wider than the tunnels they were just passing through, but its ceiling is higher.

 

“You think if I yelled really loud the soldiers above ground would be able to hear it?” Hoseok muses, squinting up in the darkness; he’s having trouble seeing the ceiling in the darkness, Jimin figures. The fire makes his auburn hair glow against the black rock behind him.

 

“Well, we aren’t going to try and find out,” Jimin replies. He stares hard at the rock overhead. Eric had said it was thin enough for an attack, but Jimin isn’t so sure; he picks up a small stone from beside his foot, weighs it in his hand, and throws it as hard as he can at the top of the cavern.

 

It strikes the rock with a  _ thud _ that anyone else would dismiss as just that, but it’s enough for JImin to tell that yes, the ground is definitely thin enough here, the sound of the collision ringing around the chamber.  _ It’s a miracle the ground hasn’t collapsed yet _ , he thinks, and the danger the words imply send a chill through his bones.

 

“We’re good,” Jimin says to Hoseok. “But you’re going to need to blow up a pretty big hole, otherwise the ceiling is going to come crashing down on  _ us _ , instead of flying out at  _ them _ .”

 

“Times like this I wish Mark was here; we could use his defensive magic,” Hoseok grumbles, but he passes the torch to Jimin and fishes out his tome from his cloak. 

 

“That would be bad,” Jimin retorts. “Shields underground are just as dangerous as any attack would be.”

 

“I know, I know; but it’s still a thought. Hang on, let me find the right spell.” Hoseok is flipping through his pages, illuminated by the torch light (Jimin reads with him as he goes; he can see just fine). “Oh, this one should work,” he says after about a minute of searching. He reaches behind his back for his staff, and Jimin retreats to the mouth of the tunnel leading into the cavern. If all goes according to plan, the debris from the explosion will skyrocket and disperse over the fortress, but some of it will still make its way back into the cavern, and Jimin doesn’t want to be dead center in its path when it does.

 

“You ready, Jiminnie?” Hoseok calls over his shoulder, his staff and tome beginning to glow with magic.

 

“Go ahead and take the shot, Hobi!” Jimin calls back, bracing himself against the wall. When a mage couples a tome  _ and _ a staff, his attack is bound to be powerful, and Hoseok is one of the most powerful mages Jimin has met.

 

The glow from the two objects intensifies, and Jimin can feel the energy in the air beginning to excite, warming up the cold cavern; Hoseok continues to build and build the strength of the spell. Jimin shuts his eyes when the light becomes too much for him to take -- a few moments later, there’s the tell tale screech of a magic attack -- then a loud  _ crack _ and a  _ boom _ as the magic connects with the ceiling and shoots into the air above.

 

Smaller pieces of rock and dust rain down immediately; Jimin blinks his eyes open, shielding them with one hand to glance up.

 

The plan has worked wonderfully; there’s now a gaping hole where the ceiling once was, edges reaching to the walls of the cavern. He can see rocks, glowing red hot and spewing sparks, flying in all directions overhead.

 

Hoseok comes running to join Jimin at the mouth of the tunnel immediately after casting his spell. His hair is plastered to his forehead, slick with sweat, and he’s breathing a little hard, but he’s grinning. “Not bad, yeah?” he pants.

 

“After all that crying you did, I forgot just how  _ lethal _ you are,” Jimin jokes, throwing his free arm around his friend. “We did it, Hobi. We’re going to save Taehyung.”

 

Hoseok’s eyes are watery at Jimin’s words. “Yes, we are.”

 

Noises from above draw their attention. Their attack has clearly surprised the enemy, and there are shouts of confusion -- a few screams of pain, too, which makes Jimin wince; he prays to Sylla nobody was killed -- and the whinnying of horses. With his enhanced hearing, he can hear their hooves pounding against the ground as they flee in terror, and the crashing of wood.

 

“That was the signal for Jinyoung to move in,” Hoseok breathes. “Hope the forces are ready.” Jimin had explained his idea to Jinyoung the moment he’d arrive, meeting him alone in the town while his force of fifty soldiers waited in the forest, hidden from the enemy’s sight. Jinyoung had agreed immediately, supporting Jimin’s analysis of Mirnian aversion to bright light. The plan is to catch the attention of the soldiers in the camp, leading them down after Jimin and Hoseok into the tunnels, with another spell, which will be Jinyoung’s signal to take out the guards at the back gate and break in once he hears the majority of the soldiers have gone down to the tunnels below.

 

“He should be fine,” Jimin replies, “He knows the plan. Now come on; we have to draw their attention down here and collapse the entrance to the tunnels before they catch us.” He watches as Hoseok opens his tome back up, scouring the pages for the right spell.

 

“How does a light spell sound? It’ll match with Jinyoungie,” Hoseok says with a laugh when he pauses on one page. Jimin grins.

 

“Do it; it can’t hurt anyone,” he says, patting Hoseok’s arm. They wait for the debris to finish falling into the cavern before Hoseok returns to the center to casts a couple of light spells, shooting into the sky one at a time. Jimin shields his eyes from the brightness once more.

 

The reaction it draws is perfect; there are shouts of confusion growing out of the yells to put out fires (oops), recover the horses (double oops), and take care of the wounded (which Jimin actually  _ does _ feel bad about). Jimin hears approaching footsteps and slides up next to Hoseok.

 

“I’ll need you to cover me while we run,” he mutters to Hoseok, adjusting his grip on the torch. Hobi needs both hands to cast his spells, but still needs light to see, and Jimin can’t fire his arrows when one hand is holding a torch. Especially not using his war bow.

 

“I have your back,” Hoseok responds. Both of them tense, knowing that any moment now, an enemy soldier is going to peek his head over the edge of the hole --

 

\-- and there they are! Two grunt soldiers are staring down at Jimin and Hoseok, pointing dazedly at them and calling out to their fellow soldiers.

 

“We have their attention,” says Hobi, a smirk tugging at his lips.

 

“We just need their ire,” Jimin says back, and he cups his hands over his mouth. “ _ Hey, idiots! How long do you think it’s going to take us to blow up the rest of your stupid fortress?” _ It’s a bluff, of course; Jimin and Hoseok are only supposed to collapse the tunnel entrance, but it gets the reaction out of the soldiers that they need. The men are already calling out for back up and ropes to drop down into the cavern with. 

 

“Wait for it,” Jimin tells Hoseok, who’s beginning to step back; only when the soldiers have scaled halfway down the rock walls does he say “Let’s go!”, sprinting into the tunnel with Hoseok right behind him. He catches the soldiers yelling for torches to be brought down, and then they’re too far to hear clearly.

 

They keep running, Jimin taking careful note of the white chalk marks on the walls. At every junction, Hoseok shoots a small thunder spell down a tunnel they aren’t using, to give the soldiers chasing them the illusion that Jimin and Hoseok are actually trying to collapse the fortress. 

 

“Are they following us still?” Hoseok pants, after casting another thunder spell. Jimin glances back at him; he’s sweating more now, energy growing low. Jimin strains his hearing for the sound of soldiers chasing after them; he catches shouts from the same tunnel they’re running through.

 

“Yes!” Jimin gasps back, still running. “Come on, we’re almost to the exit; we won’t have much time to collapse it when we get there!” He pushes himself to run faster, even though his legs are exhausted and his lungs are taxed. Hoseok groans, but does that same.

 

It’s a few minutes more before they finally reach the entrance. They burst out into the cool night air; this tunnel’s exit leads to a sloping, grassy hill that flows into the forest. The fortress lies higher in the other direction, maybe a third of a league away.

 

Jimin stops to catch his breath, sweaty hand still clutching the torch for Hoseok to read by. Hoseok is already flipping through his tome again.

 

“It’s not going to be as powerful as discordant magic,” he says between breaths, “but it’ll get the job done. Catch me if I pass out, okay?”

 

“Of course,” Jimin huffs back, standing straight but still breathing like he’s been starved of air forever.

 

Hoseok begins to gather the energy for his spell, and as Jimin watches, he catches the faint glow of a torch from within the tunnel. “Any time, now, Hobi,” he says warily.

 

There’s no reply; the light gets brighter and brighter until Jimin can actually see the torch, and the soldiers holding it. They begin to shout to their other comrades, picking up their speed as they barrel towards the end of the tunnel.

 

“Hoseok!” Jimin hisses. “They’re here!”

 

“I know!” Hoseok snaps back; “They’re right where I want them.” He releases the spell, a blazing shot of energy shooting from the staff’s tip to the rocks just above the entrance to the cavern. The rocks shudder, not quite falling, but definitely loosening.

 

“It didn’t -- ” Jimin doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Hoseok fires another spell at the same spot, and finally, the rocks come tumbling down.

 

Jimin hears the surprised shouts of the soldiers inside the tunnel, but doesn’t stop to wonder about them, because Hoseok drops to his knees, exhausted.

 

“Hobi?! You okay?” Jimin tries to hold the torch as far away as he can from Hoseok while still supporting his body with the other arm.

 

“‘M fine,” mutters Hoseok, but his eyes have fluttered shut. “Just need rest.”

 

“O-kay, then, time to go,” Jimin huffs. He tosses the torch in the direction of the collapsed rocks -- he doesn’t need it now -- and loops his arms underneath Hoseok’s body. “Gotta carry you back,” Jimin grunts, hoisting the mage into the air and jogging as best he can towards the rendezvous point.

 

_ Heavy _ , his arms complain as he moves.  _ Tired, _ chime in his legs and lungs.

 

_ Shut up _ , he tells his body, still trekking on through the forest.

 

\--

 

Jungkook awakens to chaos.

 

Alarm bells are ringing throughout the fortress and there’s a pounding at his door; Jungkook scrambles out of his bed and grabs his sword, unsheathing it.

 

“Jungkook! Jungkook, get up! We’ve been attacked!” It’s Jackson, shouting frantically at him through the wood. Jungkook feels his heart sinking.  _ It’s happening _ .

 

Guilt begins to choke at his throat; he can’t answer Jackson right away. “Jungkook? Jungkook, wake up! I know you like sleeping but you  _ can’t _ sleep now! Jungkook! I swear I’ll hack this door open with my axe if you don’t move your ass this minute!”

 

Jungkook finally finds his voice, croaking out a hoarse, “I’m awake. I’ll be out in a moment.”

 

Jackson finally stops slamming his fist against the door. “Hurry! Most of our men have disappeared down a giant hole that blew up in the middle of the fucking courtyard.”

 

“A hole in the courtyard?” Jungkook asks, disbelieving, but Jackson must be gone; he doesn’t answer. Jungkook hurries to put on his boots and throw on his tunic, all the while thinking,  _ This is my fault. I let this happen _ .

 

Dread swallows him in a heartbeat; he understands now what the archer meant -- “I hope I don’t see you again.” If they cross paths, they  _ will _ have to kill each other; but despite  _ knowing _ that the archer is the reason the Irisians are attacking, Jungkook’s heart clenches at the thought of having to kill the other man.

 

He considers donning his armor, but dismisses it; his troop needs him  _ now _ . He yanks open the door of his room and sprints down the corridor, sword in hand.

 

Typically, this corridor leads directly to the main hall, but now, it’s blocked by a huge chunk of rock that must have crashed through the wall; there’s a gaping hole there now. “How the..?” Jungkook mutters aloud. His path is barricaded, so he carefully climbs the rock so he can jump through the hole, out onto the roof of a wooden building below.  

 

Upon landing, there’s a loud creak. “Whoa!” he exclaims, feeling the roof dip under his feet. It’s unstable; realization dawns over Jungkook and he runs towards the next roof, jumping just as the other one gives way and crumbles.

 

He stares at where the building once was, feeling his stomach churn with guilt over the destruction. He isn’t given much time to wallow, thought, because the next second, someone is shooting a fire spell at him; he dodges and drops to his stomach, waiting for the next attack, but it never comes.

 

Jungkook leaps to his feet, searching around for the source, but he can barely see anything until --

 

\-- actually, now he  _ can _ see, but that’s because an entire building has just gone up in flames.  _ This is like revenge for the village  _ we _ burned,  _ Jungkook thinks, morbidly. Down in the courtyard, there is mayhem: the disoriented Mirnian troop is fighting back desperately against the invading Irisian force, which has pressed the defenders nearly halfway across the open area.

 

“You!” A shout rings out in the dark, louder than the others, and Jungkook knows immediately it’s addressed at him. He panics for a fraction of a heartbeat, because if it’s the archer, Jungkook doesn’t know if he’ll be able to fight, but --

 

\-- instead it’s another man, wearing the long cloak of a mage, the top hanging open to reveal his white tunic. He stands atop a stone part of the fortress, one hand wielding a sword, which is pointed at Jungkook. “Where is your prisoner?” he shouts at Jungkook, and Jungkook takes a step back. If he speaks now, he’ll be betraying his troop for sure, but at the same time he wants Taehyung to live.

 

His hesitation provokes something in the man, who leaps down to face Jungkook on the wooden roof; everything on his face save his mouth is hidden by the low cowl of his cloak. Instantly, Jungkook adopts a defensive stance, raising his sword at the new opponent. “Talk,” the Irisian mage ( _ is he even a mage? He isn’t using a tome _ ) says threateningly. “I know you can.”

 

Jungkook can’t find his voice, only tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword instinctively. The mage is silent for a few moments more before he slides his feet into a fighting stance. “Fine,” he says. “I've tried to avoid ruthless killing, but you give me no choice.”

 

The mage’s words ring around in Jungkook’s ears.  _ Try to avoid killing anyone? _ That sounds like Jungkook’s archer! “That archer!” he says to the mage. “Do you know -- ”

 

He never gets to finish his sentence, because the man -- who is  _ definitely _ a mage -- shoots a blast of energy at Jungkook; Jungkook dodges, but beneath him the roof crumbles, and before he can find solid footing, the wood has given way under his feet, and he’s falling, falling --

 

The jarring feeling is what hits him first, as he crashes to the floor inside the building. “Ugh,” he groans, rolling over slightly; and  _ then _ the pain hits him, and he winces. Every muscle in his body feels like it’s screaming. 

 

A loud groan from above causes him to look up, trying to find the mage. Except, he’s nowhere to be seen, and the groan Jungkook heard wasn’t from a human.

 

He watches in horrified fascination as the main beam supporting the roof careens towards him. He rolls again to his side, barely avoiding being crushed to death by the beam, but the beam also tears a hole in  _ this _ floor, and Jungkook is unable to stop himself from sliding down into that one too.

 

When he gathers his bearings, Jungkook wonders if he’s blacked out for a brief period of time. His ears are ringing loudly, and his body aches worse than before. At first, he can’t see, and he’s terrified that maybe he’s gone blind, but then he realizes he can make out a dim glow from the darkness.

 

_ I’m in the dungeon _ , Jungkook realizes. The entire time he’d been facing off with the mage, they’d both been standing two floors above Taehyung. Dazedly, Jungkook looks around for the snarky prisoner, and feels a rising sense of panic when he realizes that the floor -- or ceiling -- whichever -- has collapsed around where Taehyung was being kept.

 

“Taehyung!” Jungkook croaks out, all thoughts of the fortress abandoned. “Taehyung! Where are you?” He coughs, lungs not ready to speak after the air was sucked out of them. He rises shakily, propping himself up on his arms, and feeling around for his sword. There’s no response from Taehyung, so Jungkook weakly calls out again, and again.

 

And then, finally, there’s another cough from the room. Jungkook feels relief crash down on him like the roof just did. “Over here, brat,” he hears Taehyung rasp. Jungkook scrambles to his feet, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. “Get your ass over here and help me. And you better not be dead, because I’m stuck here and nobody is gonna help me out but you.”

 

Jungkook is finally able to locate Taehyung, using the sound of his voice, and the weakening glow of the glyphs that had bound him.

 

Now, they’ve been crushed and scattered, breaking the magical bonds. Taehyung remains bound by the chains, but the debris around him prevents him from movement. Jungkook, still coughing, does his best to push aside the larger pieces of debris, until he can reach out a hand to Taehyung. “Here,” he pants. Taehyung grasps his hand, and Jungkook heaves with all his might to tug Taehyung up. 

 

It works, but Jungkook tumbles backward, landing hard on his rear.  _ Maybe I should just lie here, _ he thinks.  _ I’ve done nothing but fall down anyways. _

 

“Hey.” Taehyung’s voice brings him back to the present, and Jungkook groans as he stands up. “Bad news, kid. Chains are still bound around my feet. I can’t walk.”

 

“Well, you’re standing, at least,” Jungkook huffs. “How does that feel?”

 

Taehyung snorts. “It’ll feel better when I can actually  _ move _ . Do you have a key?”

 

“No,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “That would be with the last person who was on duty for you.” _ And that person could be anywhere, so…. _

 

“Great,” says Taehyung, voice monotone. “Any other ideas?”

 

“”I…” Jungkook searches the room, trying to find a solution among the rubble. He catches the gleam of his sword, and he lunges for it immediately.

 

“Whoa!” Taehyung tries to take a step back but falls backwards too. “Gods, I thought you wanted to  _ help _ me, not  _ kill _ me.”

 

“I am,” insist Jungkook. “Hold the chains taught.” He hefts his sword up into his right hand.

 

“That’s not going to work,” gawks Taehyung. “These are metal.”

 

“And  _ I _ have attack magic, so it’ll be fine. Probably. You going to cooperate or not?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow at Taehyung. 

 

Taehyung frowns, but he pulls the chains between his wrists and ankles taught. “If you cut off something important, I’ll kill you,” he mutters. Jungkook considers the warning for a heartbeat before raising his sword above his head and bringing it down, willing his attack magic to flow into the blow.

 

The  _ clang _ of metal against metal and the iron chains shattering echoes in the darkness. Taehyung jerks back his wrists immediately once they're free, exhaling loudly (probably in relief, which Jungkook would find funny if he wasn't so tired and sore). “Thank Livinia,” Taehyung says, finally stretching his arms and legs. “I thought I’d lost the ability to move my limbs on their own.”

 

Jungkook sighs, hauling his sword back up. “Well, it’s time to test if they  _ actually _ work. Come on.” He makes for the stairs, Taehyung right behind him. “Wait, actually. I can’t be seen with you like this,” he says, stopping at the second step. 

 

“So what do you propose we do about that?” Taehyung says irritatedly; Jungkook can sense his desperation to get out of the prison. 

 

“I’ll climb out to the second floor, the one that collapsed on you. That way it looks like you were freed by the debris while I tried to climb out,” Jungkook says, leaping off the steps to the ground. “Go. Hopefully I don’t see you again; find your friends and get back to your family.” He turns to begin his ascent over the debris, when Taehyung’s voice calls out to him.

 

“Jungkook!” Jungkook turns around, hand already placed on the fallen wood. “Thank you,” Taehyung says, before turning to run up the stairs. Jungkook hears him shoving open the door, before beginning his own climb.

 

_ I did it, _ he thinks.  _ I saved him _ . 

 

And even though the soldier in him cries out at the betrayal, Jungkook himself feels elated to have finally achieved his goal.

 

\--

 

Jimin is getting anxious; he and Hoseok have been waiting for a long time; the moon has risen higher and higher, but Jinyoung still hasn't returned with the unit.

 

Hoseok fell asleep as Jimin carried him to the rendezvous point, much to his chagrin. Jimin sits beside him in the grass now, counting his arrows again and again to distract from the passing time, or making small talk with possums (they're kind of rude, though, so he gives that up after a while. Why waste his energy using fauna magic to talk to rude animals?).

 

A rustling in the forest has him jerking his head up from where it rests on his hands. He swiftly hops to his feet and arms himself with his bow.

 

The rustling gets closer and closer, and it sounds like a lot of people are coming, footsteps mingling together to form one noise. Jimin is fairly certain that it's the unit, hears the whisper of hushed voices approaching, but instinct keeps his fingers wrapped around his bow and arrow.

 

“Jimin! Hoseok!” calls a familiar voice, and at that, Jimin finally lets himself relax, lowering his weapons. 

 

“Jinyoung,” Jimin sighs in relief, and then Jinyoung is rounding a tree trunk, eyes searching for his two friends. “Are you alright? Is the unit okay? Is Taehyung..?”

 

“Right here,” says another familiar voice, and Jimin feels his heart relax, releasing its guilt and fear and dread when he sees Taehyung.

 

“Tae!” he laughs, jogging over to him and hugging him tightly. “I'm so glad you're alright.” Taehyung hugs him too; Jimin can feel metal cuffs around his wrists, digging into his back.

 

“Me too. Hey, you and I need to have a talk; I learned something interesting,” Taehyung says, pulling back and resting one of his hands on Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin flushes (which hopefully nobody sees), because he knows exactly what Taehyung wants to talk to him about. “Not now, though. Go talk with Jinyoung. I need to see Hoseok.” And then Taehyung is gone, almost flying to the sleeping Hoseok’s side. 

 

Jimin watches fondly as Taehyung kisses his husband into wakefulness; the joyful cry that leaves Hoseok’s lips causes Jimin’s heart to swell. They share kiss after kiss, Hoseok only pausing to return Taehyung’s necklace and scolding him, “Don't you ever go heroic on me again,” before going back to kissing.

 

It's only possible to watch the exchange for so long before Jimin is sure his poor heart will explode, so he turns away to address Jinyoung and Mark, who have returned with the unit.

 

“Hey,” Mark says when Jimin walks over to them, guzzling down water from a small flask. Jinyoung waves a greeting to Jimin but is preoccupied with another soldier, who is giving her opinion on something important. “Good to see them back together, right?” Mark adds, gesturing towards Hoseok and Taehyung. “Thought I was never going to see Hobi’s smile again.”

 

“Me too,” agrees Jimin, feeling himself smile warmly. “But first things first: what are our losses? How great was the damage to the fortress?” he continues, smile falling from his face, pressing into a thin line.

 

Mark wipes his mouth dry with the back of his gloved hand; “We lost eight fighters. Thanks to your distraction, the forces remaining to defend the fortress were half the original size,” he explains. “Did our best not to just mindlessly slaughter, though I don’t think the Mirnians shared the sentiment. We ended up torching half the wooden buildings there by accident; somebody’s fire attack gone wrong, I guess.” 

 

“I see,” Jimin says, taking note of the smoky smell hovering over the unit (he  _ knew _ he’d smelled a fire, but he couldn’t leave Hoseok’s side to investigate), and the soot clinging to Mark’s plate armor. “What about the enemy casualties from our little explosion?”

 

Mark throws Jimin a wry look. “‘Little’ is a gross understatement. The blast sent debris flying even over the fortress walls. From what I saw, not too many casualties from the blast itself, though there were some bodies lying around; I didn’t stop to count them. Scared the hell out of the horses, though; some other guys got hurt trying to subdue them.”

 

Jimin winces, but reminds himself it had to be done. Otherwise, Taehyung wouldn’t be here now.

 

Mark continues, taking note of Jimin’s gesture. “About fifteen others tried to follow you down into the tunnels, and more joined them when they heard rumbling.”

 

That brings a small smile to Jimin’s lips, replacing the frown. “That was Hobi, haha; he was casting thunder spells to make it sound like we were trying to collapse the whole area under the fortress.” He sighs. “It sounds like we did good. We have one of our captains back and we’ve probably crippled the Mirnian troop for a while. Gives us time to move further south to the stronghold near Eslyn.”

 

“We’ll be able to make another push westwards after we resupply and rest there,” Mark observes; the Mirnian forces have been trying to press eastward, into the more fertile land of Irise. Initially, they were able to invade almost a hundred leagues beyond the border, but the Irisian forces -- despite being hastily assembled -- have succeeded in repelling them a good half of that distance.

 

After a brief discussion about how their supplies are looking for the return to the encampment, Jimin leaves Mark’s side to chat up Jinyoung; he barely gets in a few words, however, before Taehyung snags him by the arm and drags him further away from the group to talk in private.

 

“So you spared him,” is the first thing out of Taehyung’s mouth. Jimin immediately feels himself shrinking in shame, know  _ exactly _ who and what he’s referring to.

 

“Tae, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me, and I really should have taken the shot that night -- ”

 

“Apology accepted; but really, it’s not necessary.” Taehyung stops him short. “You saved my life by sparing him, you know that?”

 

This time, Jimin feels his face heating up, because yes, he does know that, but he hasn’t told anyone about his second encounter with the kind soldier. He fidgets a little under Taehyung’s gaze, finding himself unwilling to talk about the meeting, but knowing that Taehyung will get the story out of him at some point.

 

“He told me,” Jimin mutters, eyes trained on his feet. 

 

“He told you what? What? Wait,  _ when _ ? Explain.” Taehyung’s voice leaves no room for argument, and begrudgingly, Jimin shares what happened in the forest with the kind soldier -- the chase, the realization about the night on the riverbank, the necklace, and the separation.

 

“He wanted to know my name,” Jimin finishes. “I assumed you hadn't told him, and I figured it was probably in his best interest to keep him in the dark. Don't need him searching me out; he could get himself killed.”

 

Taehyung laughs, much to Jimin's surprise. Jimin raises an eyebrow at him, folding his arms. “You aren't upset? Y’know, that I didn't tell anyone?”

 

Taehyung shakes his head, still laughing. “Well, I mean, I suppose I should be, but the guy who helped me did the exact same thing -- he kept his mouth shut when it mattered,” he explains through a grin to Jimin. “He was fixated on you, you know. When he was still trying to interrogate me, there was always a question about you.”

 

_ That's a little strange _ , Jimin thinks, scrunching up his nose. Taehyung catches the movement and laughs some more.

 

“Oh, he didn't mean any harm. He was just so confused, because I think when you spared him, something in him changed; he just wanted answers, which I couldn't give. I'm glad he met you, though; I hope it gave him peace of mind.”

 

The wind blows gently through the forest, and Jimin thinks about the soldier, how his eyes had been alight with curiosity and confusion, and how the hope and goodness in his soul shone right through them. “I guess I'm just glad he didn't alert the rest of his troop,” he finally says. “I made a pretty big blunder, letting him see me like that.”

 

“Well, you got my necklace back. And you also figured out what made  _ you _ spare him, right?” Taehyung offers, placing his hand on Jimin's shoulder and rocking him back slightly. “I mean, at first I was livid when I heard you’d spared him, but it all worked out in the end.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Jimin says, blowing his hair out of his face. “Though most of it's on the part of soldier-boy.”

 

“His name is Jungkook, actually,” Taehyung says after a pause, stuffing one of his hands into a pocket of his trousers.

 

Jimin squints at Taehyung. “Okay, cool. What's so important about his name?” 

 

Taehyung shrugs. “Dunno. But it's just something you should know.”

 

“Why should I care what his name -- hey, where are you going?” Jimin calls after Taehyung, who's returning to the rest of the unit.  Taehyung turns around, continuing to walk backwards, throwing Jimin his trademark grin.

 

“I was away from Hoseok for gods know how long. The intel mission, and then imprisonment; I need to be with him, yeah?”

 

“Gross,” Jimin grumbles; Taehyung and Hoseok are  _ so _ in love it's disgusting. As Taehyung is about to round a tree, Jimin feels himself calling out one more time. “Tae! Wait!”

 

“What, Jiminnie?” comes the reply; Jimin can hear the smile in Taehyung’s voice, and feels like he should just stay quiet, because whatever he wants to say can't be  _ that _ important.

 

But his lips move on their own, and it's not until he's finished speaking when Jimin realizes he asked: “Is it just Jungkook?”

 

_ Oh, gods _ , he thinks, mortified.  _ Strike me down where I stand _ .  _ Tae is  _ never _ going to let that go _ .

 

Lo and behold, there's a loud laugh from where Taehyung is, but he replies, “Jeon Jungkook. That's his full name.”  _ Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook.  _ Jimin rolls the name around in his head.  _ It's a fitting name _ .

 

“And you're just as obsessed with him as he is with you!” adds Taehyung, snickering, and then he's gone.

 

Jimin is left standing alone, shocked. “I am  _ not _ ,” he gasps, feeling scandalized. “I'm not  _ obsessed _ . I just want to know so I can avoid him in the future.” 

 

He makes his way back to the unit when he hears Jinyoung calling his name, but his face is dusted with warmth as he walks.


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading and leaving comments! this is a shorter chapter, as i'm in the process of moving right now, but i do hope you enjoy! i promise things will pick back up next chapter ;)

Jungkook can always tell when Suga is stressed. He twists the engagement ring from Namjoon on his right hand, as if touching it will offer comfort. Jungkook has seen Namjoon do the same thing, rubbing the golden ring Suga had made for him when he’s lost in thought.

 

Today, Suga’s left hand is practically attached to that ring; he twists it furiously. Jungkook is tempted to tell him if he keeps doing that it’ll tarnish, but he saves it for another time. A time that’s not so horribly strenuous, when the air isn’t so thick with tension.

 

Because right now, there’s a dark cloud hanging over the whole troop. Almost three days after the attack from the Irisian forces, the troop has finally pulled to its feet, but the costs of the battle are displayed constantly in the rubble of the fortress.

 

There was indeed a hole blown in the center of the courtyard; Jungkook had finally been able to see for himself once the enemy had withdrawn, had been there to help the soldiers trapped at the bottom back out. Every time he hauled a soldier out of the massive pit, he felt like he was being stabbed in the gut with almost every negative emotion ever: shame, guilt, sorrow, fear; probably even some emotions that Jungkook has yet to name.

 

“Twelve deaths,” Namjoon had recounted, staring down at the piece of parchment he was writing on. “Twenty-three injuries, seven of which could be crippling. We lost four buildings to fire; two others collapsed. The horses were frightened out of the stables, but we’ve recovered seventeen out of the twenty-two we had.” Jungkook had wanted to wince at every number. _This could have been averted. The_ one _time I decide to keep my mouth shut_.

 

“And,” Namjoon had added with a stressed sigh, “we’ve lost the prisoner, as well as any information he could have had.” At _that_ , Jungkook had been unable to suppress a grimace, but luckily nobody had been paying him any mind. They’d been too busy muttering about how “the prisoner couldn’t have had much information anyways”, because the convoy they had attacked had indeed been out of touch with the rest of the Mirnian forces.

 

It’s a tough job to do, but Jungkook eventually decides he can’t wallow in guilt or self-pity anymore. His troop needs his undivided focus and determination to help rebuild, and he’s mostly successful at staving off negative feelings as he helps to restock supplies, care for recovering men, and prepare for the trip to the nearest Mirnian stronghold.

 

Jungkook sits on the stone window sill of Suga’s office, watching as Suga finishes sealing off the letter that will be sent to their superiors in the city of Kysh, which the Mirnian army has held since the first push eastward into Irise. The troop will follow the letter soon, or so Jungkook hopes.

 

“When do we leave?” Jungkook asks, and Suga sighs, pushing the sealed message aside. His left hand wanders to his engagement ring without a moment’s hesitation, and if their conversation wasn’t so serious, Jungkook would smile at the gesture.

 

“In two days’ time. I want to rest up the men a little longer. Recovering from the attack has taken a real toll on them,” Suga replies; his voice doesn’t give away the pain he must be feeling from his own injury, inflicted while he was fighting with a soldier who used defensive magic. Jungkook admires how Suga is able to fight through the pain, but he worries that the injuries will only be exacerbated by Suga’s endless work. Suga has been Jungkook’s role model since he enrolled at the military school in Volka, and he’s come to view him as his second big brother, so Jungkook feels his concerns are justified.

 

“Speaking of recovering, how are you?” Suga adds, referring to the tumbles Jungkook had taken during the attack. Jungkook scoffs slightly.

 

“I’m fine; I’d be more worried about _you_. Have you gone to see Jin lately?” Jungkook says, arching an eyebrow.  “Every time I go in to be checked, he always asks where you are. You can’t just keep working like this; you’ll kill yourself trying, or at the least cripple yourself.”

 

“Don’t worry about my injuries.” Suga waves off Jungkook’s concern with a shake of his head, blond bangs swishing with the movement. “I don’t have time to relax. Our superiors already want my head on account of how easily the Irisians were able to overwhelm the camp. _And_ I have to manage everything here; care for the wounded, restocking supplies. One of the buildings we lost held a third of our food.”

 

Jungkook nods grimly; for the past three days they’ve been relying on the game brought back by the archers in their troop and food from the nearby town, which is, when combined, only just enough to feed the men.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” he counters, folding his arms and causing his armor to _clink_ softly, “you can’t keep this up forever. You’re going to faint while making an announcement, and then what will the troop think? And if you decide you _still_ want to keep working until you die I’ll tell Jin. _He_ won’t let you even get out of bed when he finds out.”

 

Suga gives a breathy sigh. “Jeon Jungkook, are you _trying_ to manipulate me into resting?” His mouth still lifts into a tired grin.

 

Just as Suga fills the role of older brother for Jungkook, Jungkook plays the part of the cheeky little brother Suga never had. Jungkook finds that he, unlike anyone else (save Namjoon, but that’s different) in the troop is able to make Suga smile with loving exasperation; perhaps it’s to do with the fact that Suga grew up alone, without siblings to fill his huge home with light and laughter (Jungkook enjoys giving him a little slice of life he never had).

 

So Jungkook throws his own grin at Suga, delighting in the way it makes Suga shake his head and laugh. “Yes, I am. And I’ll get every single one of the captains involved if it means I can make you _rest_. You know you love sleeping.”

 

“ _That_ I do know,” Suga chuckles, and he actually _stretches_ , raising his arms above his head and exhaling slowly. “When was the last time I slept for a full night?” he mutters, a question likely not for Jungkook, but one Jungkook answers anyways.

 

“Forever ago, Suga; let us do what we can to finish your work for you. Do you see me?” Jungkook asks, waving his hand around. “I’m not doing anything right now. Let me take some of your work, the stuff that doesn’t need your signature.”

 

“I’m sure you _could_ have something to be doing,” retorts Suga, but there isn’t any real argument in his voice, and Jungkook knows that he’s won (another great thing about being Suga’s honorary younger sibling is that he has persuasion powers that nearly rival Namjoon’s -- it’s just that Namjoon has the fiance card, which is slightly stronger than the sibling. Slightly). “Here. These are just some financial documents I need completed, and these -- ” Suga tugs a couple of pieces of paper from the corner of his desk to the center “ -- are a report on the actual attack itself that I need proof-read. We have yet to determine the actual motive of the attack, and who lead it. I don’t know if they were here for the prisoner, or if it was retaliation for the raid, or just to cripple our forces, but -- ”

 

“Yes, I’ve got it,” Jungkook cuts Suga off, trying not to laugh. He rises from his place by the window and leans over Suga’s desk, taking the papers into his own hands. “Now go relax, otherwise you might end up not relaxing at all. Spend some time with Namjoon, and get some sleep. It shows on your face that you aren’t getting enough.” Jungkook fixes Suga with a stare, holding it until the blonde _finally_ gets up and out of his seat, turning a half-hearted glare Jungkook’s way.

 

“Alright, _brat_ , stop telling your elders what to do. We’ll do it when we feel it’s best.” Suga flicks his fingers at Jungkook’s forehead.

 

“You’ll do it when you’re _told_ it’s best,” Jungkook snickers back, earning an exaggerated sigh from the older man; he reaches down to sift through the various sheets. “I’ll see you around, Suga.”

 

“ _Brat_ ,” Suga repeats, but it’s fond, and then his hand is ruffling Jungkook’s hair, mussing his brown locks. Jungkook protests with a small “ _hey”_ , swatting his hand at Suga’s until Suga withdraws.

 

Before Suga closes the wooden door of the office behind him, he pauses, and Jungkook looks up from the documents in front of him. “Did you need something?” Jungkook asks, once again raising his eyebrow.

 

Suga is gazing at Jungkook with eyes full of concern. “You really aren't hurt, though? I haven't had the time to talk with you since the battle.” There is a hidden “I'm worried about you” in the dry way Suga says it, and Jungkook smiles fondly at the small expression of Suga’s affection.

 

“I'm fine, I promise. I only fell twice, and it was more rolling than anything else. Now _go rest_ , please.” At Jungkook’s insistence, Suga finally exits the office, the wooden door creaking shut behind him.

 

When Jungkook hears the sound of Suga’s footsteps go silent, he finally sets into to work, rounding the table to sit down in the chair. The financial documents are easy enough; they summarize what was lost in the attack and what it will cost to replace them. As Jungkook calculates the numbers in his head and writes down the total on each page, he finds himself fighting off guilt once again (he said he was done with it, but that doesn’t stop it from clawing at the inside of his skull without his consent). The larger sums make him wince, reminders of what he allowed to happen, but he shoves aside his self-loathing to focus on the work.

 

He lets himself get caught up in the numbers; really, it’s a job better suited for someone like Namjoon, but Jungkook has never minded mathematics, and the subject was never tough for him to understand.

 

“Seven hundred and eighty-nine...plus two hundred and thirty-six...brings us to a grand total of one thousand, twenty-five nols,” he mutters aloud, scratching out an incorrect calculation and replacing it with his new one. “Gods.” The numbers are huge; a typical soldier’s average monthly pay is about eighty nols, give or take some depending on rank, and _that_ isn’t even a small sum. He sets down the feather pen and shifts the financial documents over, replacing them with the report on the attack.

 

Jungkook has to pause before he can begin, lacing his fingers together and exhaling slowly. He’s kept his memories of the attack at bay while he works to reorganize the camp, but now, with a _report_ about it staring him _right in the face_ , it’s hard to keep down the bile forming in his throat.

 

“Okay,” he breathes out, smoothing his hands over the parchment, titled ‘Attack Report: Day One Hundred and Eighty-Five’ in Suga’s neat handwriting. _I can do this. I just have to review for inaccuracy, and that’s all._

 

 _That’s all_ is what he thinks, but as he scans his eyes over the report, Jungkook finds himself thinking about each event he sees. “Destruction of six buildings” reminds him of crashing through the roof of the prison building, and again down to the cellar. “Explosion in the courtyard” brings to mind the giant piece of earth that had blocked his path to the main hall, and the soldiers injured from the debris Jungkook has seen while passing through the infirmary. “Prisoner lost” takes him back to the moment when he finally freed Taehyung.

 

“ _Focus,_ Jungkook,” he has to tell himself, several times over, mind distracting from the task at hand to chase after memories and feelings Jungkook would rather not fixate on.

 

He can’t stop himself, however, when his gaze passes over a brief mention on the hole torn in the middle of the fortress grounds. Suga has included several soldiers’ accounts of what happens, but what catches Jungkook’s attention is what one of the accounts describes.

 

“Two enemy soldiers were standing at the bottom of the pit,” it reads. “One was a mage, who appeared to have cast the attack which blew up the courtyard. The other was holding a torch, but was equipped with the weapons of an archer.”

 

 _The weapons of an archer_ , Jungkook thinks, and suddenly he could care less about focusing on the report. The archer _was_ there that night, then. He quickly scans the surrounding writing. He finds only one other mention of the archer, in an account from a soldier who followed the two Irisians through the tunnels, and it simply describes how he stood and watched as the tunnel mouth had collapsed.

 

Frustrated, Jungkook searches through the report, trying to find any other evidence of the archer, but there is none to be found.

 

“Ergh,” he groans into his hands after he fails to find anything else; he’s slightly embarrassed over how easily he gave into his own interests. “Okay, you have to finish the report first,” he scolds himself. “Then you can go off looking for details about the archer.”

 

He goes through the remainder of the report, correcting small things -- mostly numbers which have been clarified recently -- and crossing out redundancies. Suga is always very precise and accurate, so Jungkook finds he has little to edit.

 

Which is good, because _that_ means he has time to find out more about the archer.

 

Once again, he looks over the soldier’s eyewitness account. To his surprise, he sees that it’s actually Yugyeom’s; he feels sheepish for not catching it before.

 

 _Maybe I could ask Yugyeom more?_ wonders Jungkook, but that idea is squashed almost instantly. What is it that Jungkook even wants to know about the archer? Shouldn’t the only thing that matters be the fact that the archer was _there_ at all?

 

 _And besides, what would Yugyeom think? That was a stupid idea,_ Jungkook thinks, mouth turning down to form a slight frown.

 

Still, the curiosity doesn’t die down; he’s hungry for more information. About what, exactly, he isn’t sure, but little questions pop up in his head as he thinks about it, like _who was the archer with?_ Or _what was he wearing? Did he still have Taehyung’s necklace?_ One of Jungkook’s hands moves to his neck, where the leather cord once hung.

 

He finds himself, annoyingly, thinking about the archer and meeting again. Jungkook isn’t sure if he’d be able to look past the attack, but something tells him he would. After all, he surmises, the archer had stood to see Jungkook after the raid; surely Jungkook would be able to meet him again without too many hardened feelings.

 

Jungkook is very much startled out of his deep thoughts by the door slamming open; he gazes up, already knowing it isn’t Suga (Suga doesn’t slam doors like that, for the love of the Twins), and is greeted by a smiling Jackson and also a smiling Yugyeom. _Fancy that_ , Jungkook thinks dryly.

 

“Jungkookie!” Jackson says, and his face is full of happiness. For what, Jungkook has no idea; he didn’t think there were still things to be happy about after the attack, or even time. “We’re going to go out to the town on some errands. Want to come with?”

 

“I -- ” Jungkook pauses, biting his lip. He can’t say that he has work, because he’s literally just finished it, so he sighs. “Yeah, sure. How did you two even know I was in here?”

 

“We walked in on Suga and Namjoon sweet-talking each other in the study, haha,” Jackson says. “Suga was pretty peeved, but we just wanted to ask where you were, and he sent us here.”

 

“So he _is_ resting; that’s good,” Jungkook sighs again, feeling relieved. He’s tempted to sag in his chair, though, because he was _enjoying_ his thinking time. But he doesn’t, because he really needs to get out of the fortress and spend time with his friends. “When are we going?” he asks, rising and stretching his arms.

 

“Now, if you’re ready. I don’t know if you want to go in armor, though? We’ll be carrying some pretty heavy loads, and it’s hot outside.” Yugyeom motions to himself and Jackson; his comment explains why both men are dressed in just a tunic and trousers.

 

Jungkook shifts, for the first time really noticing how warm the room is. He’s been so caught up in his work and his thoughts that the outside world has slipped away. “That’s a fair point,” he agrees, pushing his hair back from his face. “Let me go back to my room, I’ll drop my armor off there and meet you guys at the east gate.” It’s not really much -- Jungkook is only wearing a breastplate and his bracers, but it’s not like he’ll need them when he goes out.

 

“Sounds good,” Yugyeom says. “We’ll be waiting.” He taps Jackson once on the shoulder; Jackson flashes another brilliant grin at Jungkook, and then both he and Yugyeom are leaving Suga’s office.

 

Jungkook throws one last glance at the papers on the desk, thinking about the archer again. He presses his lips together; he’ll have time to think later. He organizes the papers loosely into a pile, somewhat clearing up the chaos on the surface, before he slips out of the room and closes the door quietly behind him.

 

He walks quickly through the halls to his room; it’s actually now his and Jaebum’s room, since the attack had destroyed some of the soldier barracks, and captains were moved into shared rooms to make space. Jungkook hasn’t had a roommate since training at Volka, but he doesn’t mind. Jaebum is quiet and sleeps easily, which gives Jungkook the peace he needs to lie awake and think before sleeping.

 

Jungkook finds his room empty; Jaebum is likely outside, directing the preparations for the journey south to Kysh. He quickly sheds his armor and stores it in the chest at the foot of his bed, before grabbing his sword from the wall and strapping it to his belt.

 

“There you are!” Jackson calls when Jungkook finally makes it to the east gate. “Thought you were going to bail on us,” he adds, folding his arms across his chest. Jungkook laughs a little.

 

“No we didn’t,” Yugyeom says, rolling his eyes. “Now let’s go; Jaebum sent us on this errand and he wants it done before dinner.”

 

“That’s a lot of time,” Jungkook says, raising an eyebrow. “What are we even getting?”

 

“A bunch of things,” Yugyeom replies. He pulls a folded piece of paper out from a pouch on his belt. “All on here.”

 

“Alright then. Lead the way, Jackson.” Jungkook motions to the older man, who turns on his heel and begins to walk down the dirt road to the town. Jackson strikes up a conversation about the local game after spotting a rabbit sprinting into the trees, and the three of them end up talking about the various foods they’ve eaten since joining the front.

 

“Irisian food is weird,” Yugyeom says, scrunching up his nose in distaste. “It’s light. You have to eat a bunch to feel full.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Jackson groans. “I have to eat twice as much as you guys to maintain enough energy for my magic.”

 

“I have attack magic too, Jackson, don’t act like you’re the only one,” Jungkook says with a laugh. “When I eat Irisian food I sometimes wonder if I look like a glutton, but it’s true; you have to eat a ton.”

 

“I miss Mirn foods,” grumbles Jackson. “Meat is so incredible back home. Here it’s kind of flavorless. Just salted.”

 

“Their geography affects the kinds of food and hunting,” Jungkook muses with a shrug. His mind wanders to the archer; does he hunt? It seemed like he was familiar with the forest, so maybe he does. Jungkook finds the image of the archer tracking game very interesting, and tunes out the rest of the conversation to ponder the scene his mind has created.

 

He’s still thinking about it when they enter the town and make their purchases. Jackson nudges him in the shoulder when they’ve completed their errands, causing Jungkook to yelp in surprise.

 

“Jackson, really?” Jungkook says, stumbling. He tries to steady the bags he has flung over his shoulder (they’re _heavy_ , and Jungkook is pretty sure if he drops them now he won’t have the will to pick them back up).

 

Jackson chuckles. “Jeez, Jungkookie. You’re really out of it. Have you not noticed yet?”

 

“Noticed what? That I’m about to topple over carrying this stuff?” Jungkook huffs, tightening his grip on the bags.

 

“He means the stares, Kook,” Yugyeom is trying not to laugh. “You’ve attracted quite a few stares from the girls and guys of the town.”

 

“I -- what?” Jungkook feels his face heating up at the implication, but he can’t help as he glances around the town. Sure enough, a group of young girls is staring his way and giggling, and off to the side, there’s a man about his age eyeing him appreciatively from amongst his other friends.

 

Jungkook feels his ears burn. “Aww, how cute,” Jackson teases, shifting the weight of the boxes he carries to the other arm. “Jungkookie is finally getting noticed.”

 

“He’s always been noticed,” Yugyeom retorts. “You should have seen the looks some of the guys at Volka would give him after you and the others graduated. If he wanted to, he probably could have wormed his way into the elite by just batting his eyelashes at them.”

 

“Hey!” exclaims Jungkook. “Don’t exaggerate. I wasn’t _that_ noticeable.”

 

“A blatant lie,” Yugyeom sniffs, adjusting the bags that lie on his shoulders. “You could have gotten _anyone_ you wanted, you just didn’t try for anything at all.”

 

“I wasn’t _interested_ ,” mutters Jungkook; he wonders if his face could possibly get any hotter. “I’ll find a partner when I want one, and I’ll _know_ who I want.”

 

“It’s a lucky one who gets to be with you,” Jackson chirps, offering Jungkook a mirthful grin, to which Jungkook rolls his eyes, but smiles back anyways. He hasn’t thought about relationship things since he _enrolled_ at Volka, nearly four years ago, and it was only because his parents had asked if he wanted a marriage arranged for him while he was away (he’d said _no thanks_ , he plans on _using_ his second son privileges to marry whoever he wants).

 

“Wonder what they’ll be like,” Yugyeom says, and his voice carries a familiar hint of mischief. “Whoever they are, they’re going to have to put up with your incessant craving for lamb skewers.”

 

“Lamb skewers are _amazing_ , go ask Suga,” Jungkook insists. “Besides, I could care less about what they look like or how they cook. What matters for me is _who_ they are.”

 

“Sure, Jungkook,” Yugyeom chuckles. “Not like looks affect your choice at all. C’mon, tell us, what’s your type? You’ve been away long enough to have decided what kind of person you want.”

 

“What? Why is this important right now?” Jungkook groans; he stops walking for a moment. “Hang on, let me just switch shoulders.” Jackson and Yugyeom wait for him to finish before they continue their walk.

 

“So?” Jackson pipes up after a couple moments of silence, and Jungkook rolls his eyes.

 

“Again, _why_ is this important?” Jungkook sighs.

 

“It’s important because we have a ways to walk back to the fortress and it’s boring to just be quiet,” Jackson quips.

 

“Only for _you_ , Jackson,” Jungkook says. “Remember that time Jaebum tried to seal your mouth shut with wax to get you to stop talking?”

 

“A dark time indeed,” Jackson replies, voice dropping dramatically for emphasis, before it jumps back up to its usual octave. “Now stop trying to change the topic! Kyum and I will share if you do.” Both Jackson and Yugyeom are fixing Jungkook with looks that say “spill or we’ll make your life hell”, and honestly, Jungkook can’t see the point of sharing, but he decides he will, because when Jackson and Yugyeom want something, they’ll get it eventually.

 

“I mean, I don’t really even think I have an ideal type,” Jungkook mutters. “Someone kind, I guess. Someone who will listen and understands me. Who knows the difference between right and wrong.”

 

“So sweet,” Jackson says, and his voice is barely hiding his laughter. Jungkook gives him a half-hearted glare. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry; you’re just so romantic. Now tell us what they’ll look like!”

 

“I don’t even know,” Jungkook sighs, leaning his head back. He’s always been more fond of men, but he lacks experience in the whole matter of relationships, so he really couldn’t say. “Dark haired, probably? Shorter than me, and...um, pretty lips, and a nice smile, one that always reaches their eyes.”

 

“That’s...surprisingly specific,” comments Yugyeom. Jungkook shrugs as best he can with the bag over his arm.

 

“Well, that’s all I have to say on the matter,” he replies, raising an eyebrow at Yugyeom.

 

“It almost sounds like you’ve met someone like that before, Jungkookie,” Jackson laughs. “You seem to have decided on exactly what you want.”

 

“It’s just guessing,” Jungkook protests, but as the words fall from his lips, he realizes that Jackson actually is right, because Jungkook _has_ met someone that fits his description perfectly.

 

Jungkook has met him twice, and both times, he was trying to kill Jungkook.

 

In his surprise, Jungkook stumbles over a rock in his path and nearly ends up kissing the dirt road. “Whoa there, Kook, you okay?” Yugyeom exclaims, stopping to stare at Jungkook as he regains his balance.

 

“F-fine,” stutters Jungkook, flustered. He shakes his hair out of his face and stands up straight. “Just got, uh, lost in thought.” The face of the archer flashes before his eyes.

 

“Thinking about his dream partner,” snickers Jackson, and Jungkook laughs shakily with him in an effort to cover up his embarrassment.

 

“This is why I don’t think about it,” he jokes, and Yugyeom grins.

 

“You’d be the only one in the entire troop who doesn’t,” the younger man says with a laugh. “And yet you’re going out on walks by yourself all the time. I would need a partner who isn’t in their head so much.”

 

“Which is why the two of you could never be together,” Jackson cuts in, and Yugyeom nods his head in agreement.

 

Jungkook grunts in agreement, though his thoughts still trail after the archer and how he’s now invading Jungkook’s private life. Yugyeom rambles off things he wants in his future partner; “ someone outgoing and happy, who doesn’t over-think things and lives life without any worries,” he says, and Jackson teases him by saying that he would _need_ someone who worries, just to save Yugyeom’s butt when he isn’t paying attention.

 

They banter back and forth for a little while about whether Yugyeom’s vague description is really right for him, and Jungkook almost completely tunes out until Jackson describes his own type (but Jungkook still kind of tunes that out too). Jackson wants someone who “completes him”, and that’s all he says on the matter.

 

“You’re one to tell me _I’m_ vague,” Yugyeom grumbles at Jackson, and at that, Jungkook can’t help but interject, too.

 

“And to tell _me_ I’m romantic,” he laughs, and Jackson’s face freezes, as if he hadn’t previously considered how absolutely hypocritical he sounds.

 

“W-wait, no, I -- that’s not what -- ” Jackson is sputtering, eyes wide, but it’s too late, Jungkook and Yugyeom are already falling over with laughter, actually dropping their bags down on the road so they can properly cackle themselves to death.

 

It takes them a few minutes to recover from the laughter, and when they stand back up they’re still shaky, but the three finish their walk back to the fortress without further laughing incident.

 

Jaebum just gives them a look when they arrive. “Jungkook, Yugyeom, you guys are covered in dirt,” he observes, raising an eyebrow. “What...exactly happened?”

 

“Nothing important,” Jungkook replies, trying to hold down his grin as he makes eye contact with Yugyeom, who seems to be going through a similar struggle. Jackson stands beside them, and despite having been the object of their amusement, is suppressing a grin as well.

 

“Well, go drop off the goods in the pantry. The cooks tonight will be happy to have something to work with,” Jaebum says, resuming his work of brushing a horse’s coat. “And Yugyeom,” he adds, as the three have begun to walk away. “I expect to see you after your dinner so we can review your sword techniques.”

 

“Aw, Jae,” starts Yugyeom, but he’s silenced by a stony look from Jaebum. “See you after dinner,” Yugyeom grumbles, hefting his bags over his shoulder for comfort.

 

“Hey, it’s not so bad,” Jungkook offers, after a few moments of silence. “I can always help sharpen your skills when we have some spare time. I didn’t know you’d resumed your practice since the attack.”

 

“Yeah, Jaebum was on me the second I climbed out of that stupid hole,” Yugyeom grumbles, jerking his head in its direction. “He told me there was no time for rest and that I had to get back to practice as soon as I could.”

 

“Everyone benefits from mastery of the sword,” Jackson pipes up. “I mean, I prefer my axe, but it’s always convenient to be able to hack away with a sword up close.”

 

“I _know,_ I’ve used a sword before,” Yugyeom retorts. “But it doesn’t make it any easier to hear that I need work with it.”

 

“Everyone needs work,” Jackson replies. “Remember that you spent less time at Volka than the rest of us; they moved you right into specialized training.” Jungkook nods in agreement; it’s a rare thing for someone to be shipped right out to the front in just two and a half years, much less without mastery of the sword (but that isn’t to say Yugyeom is bad with the weapon; he just isn’t as refined as Jungkook or Jackson).

 

“How about we go over some stuff now so Jae doesn’t totally kick your ass into the dirt later?” Jackson offers. “Jungkookie is one of our best swordsmen; he’ll help.”

 

“Of course,” Jungkook quickly offers. “Let’s finish up this job and wash off the dirt, we can talk while we eat.”

 

They drop off the food supplies in the kitchen, received by Jin (Jungkook thanks _Mivellan_ for his cooking skills), who greets them with a warm smile and some water, and then shoos them off to go rinse and change. The three split off to go to their respective rooms; Jungkook finds himself feeling very content from the day’s events as he pours water over his shoulders.

 

Jungkook makes his way back to the main hall alone, but he easily finds a sulky Yugyeom sitting with Jackson, whose plate is heaped with food, the sight of which makes Jungkook’s stomach growl.

 

As they eat, Jungkook goes over various styles of attacking, footwork, and wrist motions, using chicken bones that they’ve picked clean as fake swords, showing high guard versus low guard, and all sorts of other maneuvers. Eventually, he has Yugyeom grinning and laughing again, and soon they’re just messing around with their food (Jin comes by, swats them both behind the ears, and tells them to go to bed). Yugyeom waves Jungkook off with a smile, heading out to meet Jaebum.

 

Jungkook walks back to his room with a smile, feeling light-hearted for the first time in a long time; probably the first time since before the raid, even. He takes his time readying himself for bed, before drawing the fur blankets over himself and sighing contentedly. Now he can have the privacy he wanted earlier, with Jaebum still out practicing with Yugyeom.

 

His eyes are just beginning to close when Jungkook is very rudely interrupted by the image of the archer staring into his eyes from the day in the forest, and Jungkook shoots straight up in his bed, kicking his blankets way frustratedly.

 

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with me?” he groans, swearing also for the first time for a while.

 

It takes him too long to fall asleep, and every time the stupid archer comes back he groans in frustration, even when Jaebum has returned.

 

“Jungkook, are you having some problems over there you’d like to talk about?”

 

“Oh, piss _off_.”


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time for a long ass chapter filled with surprises ;)

“Hey, Jimin. Jimin. _Jimin._ ”

 

Jimin is shaken awake by a very eager-looking Youngjae. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes, before realizing that it’s still dark outside, and also Jimin is shirtless.

 

“Youngjae!” he yelps, shocked awake by the cold air hitting his chest; he gathers the fur blankets up close to him as he sits up. “What are you doing here so _early_?!”

 

“You _promised_ you’d take me out hunting today,” Youngjae says, his voice a loud whisper. Jimin remembers that most of the camp is probably sleeping right now (with the exception of Jinyoung. _He_ probably didn’t even sleep at all, to be honest, working on that old tome). He shivers again at the cold.

 

“Yeah, I know I did, but it’s so dark outside. You won’t be able to _see_ anything,” Jimin whispers back, but already he’s shedding the blankets and fumbling around for his tunic in the dark, blood already tingling at the prospect of going hunting.  

 

“But you can! You can teach me to notice things in the dark,” Youngjae argues back when Jimin tugs his clothing over his head and is lacing up his boots. “I already prepped my bow and everything.” Youngjae sets down the candle he’s holding, which barely illuminates the inside of Jimin’s small tent.

 

Jimin laughs. “Somebody’s raring to go.” He grabs his leather armor and bracers; Youngjae is already moving to help him with the cuirass.

 

“Yeah, well, Jinyoung has kept me in camp _forever_. I didn’t get to join the attack on the fortress and every time I ask to go _do_ something even slightly dangerous, he gives me ‘the look’, and I’m stuck here doing nothing,” Youngjae mutters, fingers handling the straps of Jimin’s armor. Jimin looks at him over his shoulder.

 

“Jinyoung just wants what’s best for you, and that’s keeping you _safe_ ,” Jimin says, trying to sound comforting, before slipping his glove onto his right hand.

 

“I know that, but I’m _of age_ ; I _have been_ for two years now. I can shoot, I can use a sword, I even know some magic. I don’t understand _why_ he won’t let me join you,” Youngjae huffs.

 

Jimin smiles sadly. Youngjae has wanted nothing more than to join the fight to protect Irise since their hometown of Eslyn was attacked, nearly three years ago. “He’ll come around, Youngjae,” Jimin says softly. “He just cares about you, so much. You’re his family now, his only family, and he doesn’t want to lose you.”

 

That silences Youngjae. Jimin sighs; perhaps he’d been too harsh. Though Youngjae was adopted into Jinyoung’s family, he was as close to them as any true born son, and he had mourned their passing as deeply as Jinyoung had.

 

Jimin continues to prepare for the hunt in silence, unwrapping his bow from where it lies at the foot of his bedding. He selects a handful of arrows to use, before grabbing his satchel, snares, and hunting knives.

 

“Ready?” Youngjae asks, rising from his seat on the grassy ground when Jimin has his satchel packed.

 

“One more thing; go find some flasks and fill them with water,” Jimin says. “I’ll meet you on the edge of the treeline.”

 

“See you there,” Youngjae replies, slipping out of the tent. Jimin watches his shadow move along the outside of the tent until it disappears; he grabs his game bag and follows a heartbeat later.

 

The camp outside is quiet; only a few fires burn, with the soldiers asleep in their tents save for the ones on guard duty. Jimin activates his tracking magic, vision sharpening once again. He can see Youngjae kneeling at the small stream along the outside of the camp, hear the trickling of the water against the earth and the hushed breaths of the sleeping unit.

 

He passes by Mark and Bambam’s shared tent on his way to the trees, and can hear Mark snoring a little; the sound causes Jimin to smile.

 

At the treeline, Jimin sets down his satchel to test the draw of his bow, running his fingers over the bowstring when he’s done. Moments later, Youngjae returns to his side, handing him a flask, which he puts in his satchel.

 

“Where to first?” Youngjae asks.

 

“Well, we’ve got to set up these snares before going after any big game. We have most of the morning to hunt; the unit won’t start moving until noon,” Jimin replies, scanning the trees for movement.

 

“Then let’s go!” Youngjae is already moving into the forest, strapping on his satchel and taking his bow in hand.

 

“Can you even see where you’re going?” Jimin laughs, and Youngjae pauses, turning around to face Jimin, looking sheepish. “Just let me lead,” Jimin says, patting his hand on Youngjae’s shoulder. “At least until the sun is up enough for you to see on your own.”

 

Together, they venture into the silence of the forest. Youngjae relies on Jimin’s better senses to find his way around, but he’s the one who sets most of their snares.

 

“Is it tied right?” he asks, kneeling beside one of the traps.

 

“Perfect,” Jimin responds, ruffling Youngjae’s hair. “Even in the dark you tie some of the best snares I’ve ever seen.”

 

“Don’t exaggerate,” Youngjae says with a laugh, but he rises with a bashful grin.

 

They continue setting snares until the sun comes up; once Youngjae is able to see clear enough, Jimin leads them in tracking game (he loves being close to the ground, loves the scent of fresh earth and the dirt beneath his feet).

 

“Pawprints, there,” Youngjae says, pointing out marks in the soft dirt beside Jimin. “Huge,” he comments, voice awed, crouching down to observe them more closely.

 

“A bear,” Jimin breathes. “We want to avoid going that way,” he adds, finger following along the tracks.

 

“No kidding,” Youngjae replies, grasping his bow a little tighter.

 

 _At least we know we’re getting closer to home,_ Jimin thinks. Bears live in abundance further south, towards Eslyn. He often had to avoid them as a child.

 

Eventually, Jimin decides they should split up to cover more ground; it’s light enough now for Youngjae to see on his own, and he’s quite capable of hunting by himself in daylight. They set a rendezvous point in a small clearing before parting ways.

 

Alone, Jimin is able to go more places; Youngjae is a good hunter, but he can’t climb trees like Jimin can. _Maybe one day I’ll teach him to climb_ , Jimin thinks as he hauls himself up the branches of a particularly large tree. He plants his feet on a sturdy branch and scans the surrounding forest.

 

Jimin relishes his time in the forest. Here, nature offers solace from the calamities of war. And sure, he isn’t always on the front lines of battle -- there’s no place for an archer in close combat  -- but he’s killed his fair share of enemies over the years.

 

It eats at him, being in this man-made hell called war, where his bow is put to use for killing men instead of game, and his magic is used to harm instead of help.

 

 _But this is how it goes,_ Jimin thinks. Even after centuries of peace, there will always be war, and there will always be men who kill other men. And yes, it hurts Jimin to kill, but if he doesn’t, then the ones he loves will die for his weakness. _It’s a game_ , he tells himself, _of placing one above the other. My conscience or their lives._ His conscience always loses.

 

Jimin allows himself little time to lament his struggle; there’s food to be caught for the camp, something to spice up the monotonous gruel and potato meals they’ve eaten every day since beginning the journey south.

 

On his own, Jimin catches a couple of pheasants and a squirrel; he’s especially pleased with the squirrel, clean through the eye.

 

A couple hours and a couple of kills later, Jimin lets out a whistle that carries through the leaves; he does it a couple more times as he makes his way back to the rendezvous point, hoping that Youngjae can hear it. Assuming he’s done as well as Jimin, Youngjae will probably be on his way back anyways.

 

Ultimately, Jimin makes his way back first. He lounges in the lower branch of a tree, bags resting against the trunk as he cleans the blood from his arrows with a small cloth. As he stows away the cleaned arrows, he finds himself staring down at the grassy clearing.

 

The sunlight illuminates the earth; Jimin can make out bright yellow dandelions growing amongst the blades of grass. He’s tempted to let himself get lost in the beauty of nature, but firmly decides against it, on account of what happened _last_ time he did.

 

 _I can only be thankful that Jungkook kid kept his lips sealed_ , Jimin thinks begrudgingly to himself. _Stupid rookie mistake, not paying attention_. He never messes up like that; the memory of standing face to face with the enemy soldier -- with Jungkook -- has him grimacing.

 _At least you got to talk with him_ , a part of him offers, the one which, for some _stupid_ reason, seems to have taken an interest in the soldier. _He was honest and understanding._

 

True, Jimin must admit, but he still wishes he could have avoided the encounter. He feels like every time he runs into Jungkook, his life gets messier, and it becomes harder to see things in black and white (or at least, pretend to see them that way).

 

 _Well_ , the voice says, _at least he was pretty_ , and, okay --

 

“ _That_ was uncalled for,” Jimin mutters aloud. If he was able to physically slap his conscience he probably would have by now.

 

“Jimin?” comes Youngjae’s voice, summoning Jimin back from his thoughts about beating up his conscience. “I’m here!”

 

“Over this way,” Jimin calls back, swinging his legs in the tree to catch Youngjae’s attention. “I’ll be right down.” He gathers his things, strapping them to his back before leaping down to the ground.

 

“How much did you catch?” asks Youngjae. “I only caught a few birds.”

 

“Three pheasants, a squirrel, and some quails,” Jimin lists off. “Plus whatever we caught in the snares.”

 

“Dinner should be good,” Youngjae says brightly. They won’t make it back in time for lunch, but that just means they have time to make it properly for dinner. “Let’s go check those snares.”

 

They walk for a ways, silent; Youngjae takes the lead. They’re nearing the location of one of the snares when Youngjae stops and drops down abruptly, setting Jimin on alert instantly.

 

“Youngjae?” he whispers, crouching down low. “What is it?”

 

“Over there,” Youngjae says, his voice quiet but full of excitement. “A turkey.”

 

Jimin’s gaze follows the direction of Youngjae’s, and sure enough, there’s a turkey standing in broad daylight, perfectly unaware of their presence.

 

“Can I kill it?” Youngjae asks, eyes turning toward Jimin, pleading. “We haven’t had a turkey in forever, and this’ll really cheer the unit up.”

 

“Go for it,” Jimin whispers back. Youngjae doesn’t hesitate a second more to draw an arrow, aimed at the kill. He breathes in, out, in again -- Jimin can hear his heartbeat if he listens closely.

 

Youngjae takes one more breath, steadying his arrow, when suddenly the turkey squawks and runs off, a heartbeat before he takes the shot.

 

“What the -- my kill!” groans Youngjae, lowering his bow.

 

But Jimin is less concerned about the turkey than he is about what scared it off. He knows it wasn’t them; they were silent and the wind was blowing their direction. “Youngjae,” he says, voice low and warning. “Something’s out there.”

 

Immediately, Youngjae has another arrow nocked. “Investigate?” he breathes. Jimin nods his head, nocking his own bow and rising from where they’re crouched.

 

Together, they trek towards where the turkey had been. From there, Jimin can’t see anything, but then he hears it --

 

\-- a child crying out in fear.

 

“Someone needs help,” Jimin realizes. He turns his head in the direction of the noise.

 

“Who?” exclaims Youngjae, moving to stand beside Jimin.

 

“A...child, I think. Over that way, but I don’t -- Youngjae, wait! Youngjae!”

 

His words fall empty in front of him, as Youngjae bolts in the direction Jimin had indicated. Jimin is after him a split second later, running as fast as he can to catch up.

 

 _Reckless kid,_ he thinks, slightly annoyed by Youngjae’s dismissal of danger but also a tiny bit proud of his selfless nature. _But if he gets hurt Jinyoung is going to find fifty ways to fry my ass_ , he tells himself, and so speeds up his pace even more, pushing leaves out of his way and kicking his way through shrubs.

 

When he finally catches up with Youngjae, the younger man is lingering behind some trees, staring intensely at whatever lies beyond them. Jimin stops beside him, placing his free hand on the tree trunk.

 

“Youngjae, that was so _stupid_ ,” he hisses, but Youngjae whips his head around and gives Jimin a ‘hush’ signal. Jimin blinks, but quiets, and then leans around the trunk to see what’s got Youngjae so riled up.

 

Of course, it riles him up, too; beyond the trees is a clearing, and in the clearing four soldiers surround two children -- little boys, from the looks of it, both a little dirty. One of the soldiers has a boy clasped by the wrist, and he’s speaking angrily to him; the child has tears streaming down his face. The other is held back by the arms by two other soldiers.

 

“What could have happened?” Jimin mutters, and he’s about to turn to Youngjae to come up with a plan to help, but --

 

“Let the boys go.” Already Youngjae is standing in clear view of the soldiers, an arrow drawn at them.

 

 _Choi Youngjae_ , Jimin groans inwardly, grinding his teeth together. He has no choice but to reveal himself now; Youngjae doesn’t stand a chance on his own.

 

“Who are you?” one of the soldiers barks; it’s the one holding the boy by the arm. His hair is auburn, glinting in the sunlight, which also reflects off of his polished plate armor (briefly -- _very_ briefly -- Jimin thinks of the plate armor Jungkook wore). “Why should I hand these thieves over to you?”

  
Youngjae doesn’t answer right away, so Jimin takes the opportunity to leap out of the shadows and salvage the situation as best he can. “Wait!” he calls, waving his arms. “We’re sorry -- you just took us by surprise. Those boys -- ” Jimin throws a glance at the two boys, who are staring right back at him “ -- we’re their parents.”

 

It’s the first lie that comes to mind; Jimin prays Youngjae can play along without giving them away; he’s quite a horrible liar, but Jimin supposes that only attests to his genuine character.

 

At first, it doesn’t seem to work; the auburn-haired soldier’s face doesn’t change. But then he speaks, spitting out, “Some parents you are. We caught your brats stealing. In Mirn, that’s a punishable offense.”

 

“We’re so sorry,” Jimin starts, but then Youngjae blurts out “We just adopted them!” Their simultaneous answers seem to startle the Mirnian soldiers.

 

“They came from a hard street life,” Jimin supplies, trying to cover their blunder. “We’re still trying to help them adjust to...having things.” Slowly, he puts his own bow down -- it’s still in his hand -- and kneels to the ground. _Names_ , he thinks, _names_ , desperately thinking of something to call the two boys. Beside him, Youngjae has begun to lower his bow, but it’s still drawn, pointing at the ground in front of them.

 

Finally, two names come to Jimin’s mind, and he blurts them out as he spreads his arms open wide: “Boo! Lee! Come here!” In the next second, he hopes furiously that his suddenness is taken for the desperation of a parent, and also that the two boys are smart enough to go along with their ruse.

 

Thankfully, the two children understand immediately, and struggle more against their captors. The auburn-haired man, who Jimin assumes is the leader of the small group, presses his lips into a thin line, glaring at Jimin and Youngjae from across the clearing. For a minute, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to let them go, but then the boy being held by the arms cries out “Papa!”, and the soldiers holding him relent.

 

The boy who cried out stumbles to the ground before grabbing the other boy’s hand. Still, the leader holds the other boy’s wrist. “Let Boo go!” shouts the freed boy, struggling to tug his companion free as well. Jimin is actually surprised by how well the boys are playing along.

 

“Let him go!” Youngjae shouts, and he aims his arrow at the leader again. Jimin leaps to his feet, crying out.

 

“Careful, Youngjae!” he yelps, again hoping his actions are mistaken for those of a frantic father. Luckily, it seems their little interaction spurs the leader to his senses, and he releases the boy he’s holding -- _Boo_ , Jimin thinks, _that one is Boo, so the other one will be Lee_.

 

The two children don’t hesitate to scramble across the clearing to Youngjae and Jimin. Jimin drops to the ground again, holding his arms open wide like he’s seen Taehyung and Hoseok do so many times with their own children, sees Youngjae do the same out of the corner of his eye.

 

The boys crash into their arms so strongly that it nearly sends both men tumbling over. Jimin ends up clutching the one dubbed “Boo”, quickly throwing his arms around the child’s shaking frame. “Keep playing along,” he whispers into the boy’s ear, and he feels the child give a tiny nod into his shoulder, where his face is buried. Jimin does his best to act relieved, running his hands up Boo’s back and pressing his nose to his hair.

 

Youngjae seems to be doing even better than him, blabbering out words of relief and cupping the other one’s -- _Lee_ , Jimin reminds himself -- face lovingly. It does the trick, and Jimin watches the soldiers bow their heads in embarrassment from his peripheral vision.

 

Eventually, Jimin draws back from “Boo”. “What did you take, Boo?” he asks sternly, trying to mimic Hobi’s chiding tone.

 

The little boy is staring off to the side, at the other boy, before he meets Jimin’s gaze, almost hesitantly. “It was only an apple,” he mumbles. “My stomach was growling, and we couldn’t find you to ask for a snack.”

 

Jimin tuts, ruffling the boy’s hair. “This is why you have to stick close to us. You can’t just take things anymore,” he says, and he gives the child a look that says “keep it up or we’re all dead” (which he hopes will be interpreted as a look of exasperation to the Mirnian soldiers).

 

“Sir, we’re so sorry,” Youngjae says, from beside Jimin and “Boo”. He’s holding “Lee” in his lap. “It won’t happen again, we promise.”

 

“What are you even doing out here?” the leader asks harshly. _Easy_ , thinks Jimin.

 

“We’re hunting,” he says, the first actual truth of the entire conversation. “We decided to take our children with us to show them the ropes, but they wandered off as usual. Clearly, it was a poor decision on our part,” Jimin adds. “We’re so sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

 

The leader stares hard at Jimin, and then at Youngjae (Youngjae gives him short glare before going back to doting on “Lee”). The auburn-haired man opens his mouth to speak, when --

 

“Jaebum? There you are!”

 

And no _, no, no_ , _this cannot_ _be happening_ ; Jimin feels his heart rate speeding up unbelievably fast. They were _so close_ , had been _so close_ to succeeding, getting out of there with the two boys, but now they’re doomed, because --

 

\-- Jeon Jungkook has just appeared from the trees.

 

The other soldiers haven’t recognized Jimin and Youngjae for what they are, dressed in plain hunting gear with full bags strapped to their backs, but Jungkook _knows_ Jimin’s face, knows exactly who he is, and could give them away in a heartbeat.

 

The attention of the soldiers is diverted to Jungkook’s arrival, which gives Jimin a window to let out a sharp breath -- the little boy in his arms notices and opens his mouth, but Jimin silences him with a look.

 

“Jaebum, what are you doing here? The troop’s about to -- oh.” And there it is; Jungkook’s gaze falls upon where Jimin kneels, next to Youngjae, both with children in their arms. His eyes show instant recognition, at least to Jimin, and his mouth parts ever so slightly.

 

 _This is it_ , Jimin thinks. _I tried my best._ He offers silent apologies to Youngjae, and to the two boys they had almost saved, and to Jinyoung, who will now be without a scout and a soldier (a friend and a brother).

 

Because there is no way Jungkook has forgotten what Jimin had said, had done. It was _Jimin_ who had scouted out the weaknesses of the fortress, _Jimin_ who had helped to destroy it, and _Jimin_ who is to blame for the deaths of men who were likely Jungkook’s friends. It’s unforgivable, he knows, and even though Jimin is ready to die, he wishes bitterly that these boys and Youngjae could have escaped.

 

Jimin waits with bated breath for Jungkook to point his finger at him and call him out as the enemy, but it never happens.

 

Instead, Jungkook stands there, gawking at Jimin, long enough for it to make Jimin uncomfortable; that’s not a normal stare. _Why isn’t he saying anything?_ Jimin wonders nervously. Perhaps this is just to build suspense? Is he planning on making some big --

 

“Jungkook, you _twat_ , stop staring,” the leader -- Jaebum, according to Jungkook -- snaps, walking over to Jungkook and swatting his arm. The dark-haired boy shakes his head, as if coming out of a stupor.

 

“Sorry, I just was surprised,” he replies. _That’s one way of putting it_ , Jimin thinks dryly. No _fucking way_ that Jungkook hasn’t recognized him. Jungkook turns to Jaebum, but his gaze is still locked on Jimin, flitting over to Youngjae for a mere moment and then back Jimin. “What’s going on here?” Jungkook asks, sounding slightly bewildered.

 

“These are just some hunters and their kids. One of the brats was stealing, and we were just about to let them go,” Jaebum informs him, stretching his neck. “Why? You want something from them?”

 

Jimin is surprised he hasn’t broken out in a cold sweat yet; every muscle in his body is tense, but he feels himself winding up even tighter when Jungkook’s eyes find his own again. _Please just let these kids go_ , he pleads inwardly, trying to channel his message through his eyes and into Jungkook’s mind. _Please let them go._

 

“Kids, huh?” is all Jungkook says. He finally lets his eyes run over the two boys Youngjae and Jimin are holding, expression unreadable. “Well,” he begins, and Jimin feels his lungs burning with the air he’s holding in -- he’s surprised he’s still breathing.

 

“Well?” Youngjae interjects, and Jimin almost leaps out of his skin, at first terrified, because he doesn’t know how Jungkook will react, but then mollified, because Youngjae doesn’t know anything about Jungkook -- the only one of his friends who does is Taehyung. “Can we go now? I think you’ve properly terrified our boys,” Youngjae continues, and Jimin forces himself to breathe. His grip is tight on the arm of Boo, and he wills himself to loosen his fingers from the poor thing’s shirt.

 

“Oh -- of course,” Jungkook says, the words falling from his mouth easily, and _what_? Jimin can’t believe his ears. “I just wanted to tell your kids to behave,” Jungkook adds, mouth quirking into the strangest grin Jimin has ever seen.

 

If they weren’t in such a dangerous situation, Jimin would sag to the ground in relief, but instead he rises, taking Boo’s hand into his own and turning back towards the trees. He doesn’t fail to give Jungkook one last glance and a small, strained smile, murmuring a “thank you” before beginning to walk away. He hears Youngjae doing the same, with an apology tacked on to the end, following him into the forest.

 

Jimin forces himself to remain steady until they’re out of sight; the little boy stays silent as they walk, and keeps quiet even when Jimin picks him up gently in his arms and begins to run until he’s sure the Mirnian soldiers are out of range and that nobody is following.

 

 _Don’t think, just run, don’t think_ , he tells himself as he speeds through the forest. He’ll have time to think about what happened -- about Jungkook -- later on, when they’re safe.

 

He stops at one of their snares, recognizing the area as far enough from the Mirnians. Gingerly, he places the little boy down on a tree root, waiting for Youngjae to appear with the other one.

 

“That,” Youngjae breathes, when he finally shows up, “was too close.”

 

“No kidding,” grunts Jimin. “You _definitely_ didn’t think that through.” He runs his hand through his hair, sighing.

 

“He almost didn’t let you go,” pipes up one of the little boys, the one called “Boo”. His face is pouty, and Jimin feels annoyance bubbling up in his gut.

 

“Yeah, well, it’s _your_ fault the whole thing even happened,” Jimin snaps. “Stealing isn’t acceptable, both here in Irise or in Mirn. I don’t know _where_ you two come from, but your habits almost got all of us killed.”

 

“I was _hungry_!” Boo fumes back, balling his tiny fists. Jimin glares; _how do Hoseok and Taehyung manage_ ten _of these brats_? he wonders.

 

“Okay, _okay_ , everyone calm down,” Youngjae interrupts, moving his hands between Jimin and the little kid. The other little boy moves over to Boo, sitting down beside him and putting a hand to his arm. “What are your names?” Youngjae asks calmly, kneeling down beside the two boys. “Why are you out here in the forest?”

 

The calmer boy, Lee, speaks up first. “I’m Seokmin,” he says meekly. “This is Seungkwan.” Boo -- Seungkwan -- jerks his chin up and glares at Jimin.

 

“Those nicknames were dumb,” Seungkwan says, and Jimin presses his lips into a thin line.

 

“You know, I’m half tempted to go give you back to those soldiers -- ” he starts, but he’s cut off by Youngjae.

 

“Alright, so Seokmin and Seungkwan! What are you doing out here alone?” Youngjae’s voice is stern, and he gives Jimin a silencing look (Jimin is _almost_ offended at being cut off. _Almost_ ).

 

“We don’t have any family,” Seokmin admits, head drooping slightly. “The two of us ran away from some slavers a while ago -- I freed Seungkwan from his encampment! And we’ve been trying to find somewhere safe ever since.”

 

Youngjae nods, making a “hmm” noise, but then he looks at Jimin again, and his eyes are asking The Question before it forms on his lips; Jimin frowns.

 

“You can’t _seriously_ be considering taking them _back_ with us,” Jimin says, disbelieving. “We’re a war camp! There’s no room for kids!”

 

“But we’re almost back at Eslyn,” Youngjae argues, folding his arms. “They’d only have to tag along until we get to the city, and that’s just a few days away. Besides, Tae and Hobi will take care of them.”

 

“Urgh,” Jimin groans, returning his gaze back to Seokmin and Seungkwan. Seokmin has a hopeful look in his eyes, while Seungkwan glares at Jimin balefully. Jimin gnaws at the inside of his cheek, but eventually he says, “Fine. Fine! You can come back with us, and we’ll take you into the city. But you have to promise to behave yourselves -- _no stealing_.”

 

“Thank you!” cries Seokmin, and he bows his head quickly in gratitude. Seungkwan mutters out a begrudging thank-you as well, still glaring. “We’ll behave, we promise. Right?” Seokmin shakes Seungkwan’s arm, and Seungkwan gives the barest nod.

 

“Alright,” Jimin says, narrowing his eyes. “Youngjae, take them back to camp now, I don’t want anyone else running into them. I’ll gather our kills from the snares,” he adds, rising to full height. He fixes his gaze on Seungkwan. “Listen to Youngjae, he’ll get you back alive.”

 

The two little boys shrink back in fear; Youngjae raises an eyebrow at Jimin, before deciding it’s pointless to argue. He gathers the children in front of them and herds them towards the direction of camp, giving Jimin one last glance.

 

“I’ll be back before we move, don’t worry about me,” Jimin sighs, already moving to the nearby snare, which, luckily, has snagged a rabbit.

 

“Okay. Um, what should I tell Jinyoung?” Youngjae asks, and Jimin swears under his breath. Jinyoung probably won’t like having children in camp.

 

“Find Hobi first. If anyone can convince Jinyoung to let them stay, it’s him,” Jimin decides. The happy, bubbly Hoseok returned with Taehyung, and all he can talk about now is getting back to see his family in Eslyn, so Jimin assumes he won’t mind doting on some strays for the time being.

 

“Alright. I’ll see you back at camp.” Youngjae is gone without another word, leaving Jimin in the silence of the forest, cutting the rope away from the snare and depositing the kill in his game bag.

 

After he’s gathered the materials from the snare, he rises, trying to remember exactly where the next one is, when he hears rustling from behind him. “Youngjae? Is that you?” he calls over his shoulder, attention still focused on locating the snare. Maybe Youngjae is returning to give Jimin his game bag; Jimin turns around, hand outstretched. “You know, I probably should have taken that from you before -- _Mother of Livinia_!”

 

When he turns around, it’s definitely not Youngjae standing there with his game bag.

 

It’s Jeon Jungkook, and his eyes are wider than those of a deer that knows it’s been spotted.

 

“What the -- what the _fuck_?!” Jimin sputters, reeling backwards from Jungkook into the tree behind him. “Why the _fuck_ are you following me?!” The sudden appearance of the man has his heart rate elevated instantly; his first thought is _he fucking_ saw _us_ , and the second thought is _why won’t he leave me_ alone?

 

“I -- I, um,” Jungkook stutters, and Jimin tries to calm his racing heart, taking deep breaths but never taking his eyes from Jungkook’s face -- or the sword hanging at his hip. Once again, he’s dressed in full armor; Jimin can’t help but feel threatened. “Sorry,” Jungkook says, after a pause; his face is sheepish. “I didn’t mean to scare you, honestly.”

 

Jimin huffs. “Just like last time?”

 

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. He glances around him, almost nervously, Jimin notes, like he’s wary something is watching him. Jimin is about to ask him why he’s even there, when Jungkook clears his throat and says “So...you have a husband? And kids?”

 

The second the words register in Jimin’s ears he feels his face scrunching up; he’s barely able to prevent himself from replying “ _no_ ” in the most annoyed tone possible (he loves Youngjae, but wouldn’t _marry_ him, and _no way_ is that Seungkwan brat _his_ kid).

 

“Why do _you_ care?” he says instead, frowning at Jungkook. “Actually, scratch that; why did you let us go back there? You _know_ me. You _know_ who I am and what I did. Why do you keep letting me _go_? I’m at fault for the deaths of your friends.”

 

“If you’re to blame for their deaths, then I am too,” Jungkook replies, almost immediately. Jimin is taken aback by his quick answer, but he lets Jungkook continue; obviously, his haste to respond means he’s been thinking about this for a while (Jimin ignores the possible implications of the statement).

 

“I kept my mouth shut even when I knew what you were planning. I should have gone to my superiors and told them the second I returned to the fortress. But I didn’t, because I _couldn’t_. Something in me just wouldn’t let me rat you out,” Jungkook rambles, and Jimin is very tempted to interrupt him right there, but he’s prevented from doing so when Jungkook keeps going. “I don’t know why I keep letting you go. I ask myself that question every day. But you -- you’ve _done_ something to me. I’m _different_ now because of you, but I don’t know _how_. What I _do_ know is that I can’t kill you. You’re important, somehow, and killing you...” He trails off, but his eyes still stare at Jimin’s face.

 

Jimin doesn’t know what to say; the words on his tongue vanish. He stands there, just looking at Jungkook, searching his face for something malevolent. It’s almost unbelievable, what Jungkook is saying. They are enemies, taught to kill each other without a second thought. Surely Jungkook is lying, waiting for Jimin to let down his guard so he can strike.

 

But as hard as Jimin searches, scrutinizing every inch of the other man’s face, he can’t find anything even remotely malicious. _Jungkook is like a meadow_ , he thinks, open and clear and unable to hide anything. Jimin feels something akin to shame curling in his stomach; this is _Jungkook_ , and even if the only thing he knows about the man is his name, Jeon Jungkook has proven himself genuine and steadfast, several times over. It’s almost foreign, the honesty Jungkook offers; Jimin has spent a long time always trying to find the shadow in others’ eyes, so long now that he can’t just accept honesty for what it is.

 

“Say something,” Jungkook rasps, bringing Jimin back to the present. Jungkook turns his head to the side in embarrassment. “I said more than I meant to. I hate to think my lack of control went to waste.”

 

“That’s a bit of a selfish thing to say,” Jimin finally exhales, and Jungkook perks up, like he’s surprised Jimin responded at all. Before Jungkook can speak again, Jimin holds up his hand. “Before we say anything else, between you and me? I’m not married and I definitely don’t have kids. I just wanted to help those boys from being -- I don’t know, beaten up by your leader friend? Jaebum? He was threatening them with punishment.”

 

Jungkook frowns for a moment, then lets out a breathy laugh. “Oh, Jaebum. Yeah, he wouldn’t have actually hurt them; maybe just give them a good smack behind the ears and a warning. He hates having things taken from him.”

 

“He scared the poor things half to death,” Jimin gawks, remembering the genuine fear in Seokmin and Seungkwan’s eyes.

 

“He...he does that. But, uh, you don’t have...a husband, then?” Jungkook blurts out the last part, and Jimin can’t help but frown.

 

“I just _said_ I wasn’t married. And again, why do you _care_?” he asks, failing to keep the annoyance out of his voice. He rests a hand on his hip, before remembering that he still has a game bag, and game that also needs to be put _into_ the bag. “And could you hurry up a bit? I actually do have kills to collect.”

 

Jungkook’s mouth falls into an “o”, eyes falling to Jimin’s half-full game bag. “Uh,” he says, and Jimin rolls his eyes. He has _places_ to be. He isn’t ready for Jungkook to suddenly say, “I can walk with you while you do...whatever you have to do.”

 

“I -- excuse me? Did you just invite yourself to come hunting with me?” Jimin can’t help himself from saying, though he means for it to be teasing.

 

The reaction he elicits from Jungkook is nothing short of hilarious; the brown haired man’s eyes go wide, and he begins to shake his head furiously. “N-no, I -- I didn’t mean to be rude,” he starts, but Jimin is already laughing.

 

“I’m teasing,” Jimin says through laughs. “You can follow me around for a little bit, but only for the next few snares, and only if you answer my questions for you.” For some reason, Jimin is suddenly relaxed around Jungkook. The way Jungkook’s face flushes in embarrassment and the way he nods sheepishly makes Jimin feel like he can breathe easy -- even though he was on edge just a few moments before.

 

 _I’m slaphappy_ , Jimin thinks. _Must not have slept enough last night, and now my mind is swinging between sensible and senseless_. But he still feels sort of comfortable around Jungkook; he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing.

 

“So, what were you and your unit even doing out here in the forest?” Jimin asks as he begins to slowly walk away. _The nearest snare was...damn, where was it?_ Jimin shakes his head; he can’t _think_ normally, now that Jungkook is here. He sneaks a glance at Jungkook out of the corner of his eye.

 

The other man is watching the ground as he walks, clearly not used to the terrain of the forest the way Jimin is. His steps are slower and a little hesitant, and Jimin feels a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth; it’s amusing, seeing a fully-armored man travel almost daintily through the woods.

 

Jimin is so enthralled, watching Jungkook’s careful walking, that he’s surprised when Jungkook speaks again (if Jimin is being honest, he’d actually forgotten that he asked a question). “We’re...out and about.” Jungkook’s voice is reluctant, which Jimin understands immediately. Trusting and open as he is, Jungkook has learned from their last encounter not to give away more than is needed.

 

“I see.” Jimin leaves the air open for a question, still trying to find where he and Youngjae set up the snare. When Jungkook remains silent, he opts to ask one himself. “You didn’t answer my question from before; why do you care about my being married?” Jimin feels himself frowning as he says it, because really, why should it matter? Sure, he’s an eligible bachelor, but now is hardly the time -- and this is hardly the situation -- for him to think about marriage.

 

“Oh. Um. I...I just was surprised,” Jungkook responds -- Jimin thinks he can hear a blush in his voice; when he turns around to look, Jungkook turns his head away, and yes, there’s some pink dusting his cheeks and his ears are turning red.

 

“Surprised? How so?” Jimin turns his head back to the front, chuckling. Beyond the tree in front of him, he thinks he sees a snare. _Finally_.

 

There isn’t an answer right away, so Jimin decides he’ll see to the snare while he waits. This one, unlike the last, is empty; Jimin sighs in disappointment, but cuts the rope away and places it in his satchel; he can use it again later.

 

“Well?” he prompts, when Jungkook still hasn’t spoken. Jungkook’s eyes go wide, like he’s been startled, and Jimin can’t help but grin again. “Why were you surprised?”

 

“I -- I didn’t take you for, um, a family kind of person,” Jungkook says, kind of quietly.

 

Jimin really can’t argue with that. “I guess you’re right,” he says, shrugging. “I mean, I don’t think relationships or children are in the plan for the near future, what with the fighting and all.”

 

There’s a sound of agreement from Jungkook, but no further comment. “You’re surprisingly quiet,” Jimin remarks. “Last time, you were blabbering away at me.” He begins to walk off in the direction of the next snare; he’s pretty sure he knows where it is this time.

 

“Hey,” protests Jungkook as he folds his arms over his chest. “I know better now.”

 

Somehow, Jimin feels like that isn’t the entire reason for his reluctance, but he lets it slide. _Maybe the less we know about each other, the better off we’ll be_ , he thinks, but at the same time he can’t bring himself to stop from asking another question, scanning the undergrowth for signs of another snare.  

 

“So why are you following me?” The real question of the day, Jimin thinks. He takes off in the direction of another snare, but Jungkook doesn’t follow immediately; Jimin turns around to eye him suspiciously. “You alright?” he asks; _so much for following_ , he muses to himself.

 

“I wanted to see you again,” Jungkook blurts out, and in the next instant, his face is red; it’s obvious that he didn’t mean to say it that way.

 

He isn’t alone, though; Jimin feels his own face heating up. “ _Why_ ?” he nearly squawks. “You -- Jungkook, there’s no reason for you to want to see me again.” Jimin was _not_ prepared to get _that_ for an answer.

 

Jungkook, impossibly, turns even redder, which just makes Jimin feel _more_ flustered. In an effort to save his dignity, Jimin turns around and begins walking towards the snare again. This time Jungkook does follow, but he’s still silent.

 

It’s quiet between them for a long time, even as Jimin frees a dead rabbit from the snare and tucks away the kill into his game bag. It’s still silent as Jimin hunts down the next snare.

 

Eventually, Jimin can’t take it anymore, so he finally decides he’s going to ask again, but before the words can leave his lips, Jungkook is saying, “My name.”

 

Jimin is confused at first, facing Jungkook and squinting. “Your name?” he repeats, bewildered. “What about your name?”

 

“My name,” Jungkook repeats, eyes narrowing. “You said ‘Jungkook’ before. That’s my name.”

 

“Well, yeah, your name is Jungkook, isn’t -- oh.” Jimin finally realizes what Jungkook means.

 

“How do you know my name?” Jungkook asks; his voice is a blend of suspicion, curiosity, and confusion. Jimin bites his lip.

 

“Taehyung told me your name,” he finally replies, rising from the ground to face Jungkook at full height. “He told me the night he escaped.”

 

“Taehyung? Is he alright? Did he get back to his family? And the necklace -- ” Jungkook is suddenly bursting with questions.

 

“Whoa, whoa, hang on there; he’s perfectly fine, he’s with his family now, and I gave back the necklace.” Jimin quirks an eyebrow. “I thought you would be upset by his escape, to be honest.”

 

Jungkook turns sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck and staring down at the grass. “Well, I mean...no, not really. I was...kind of the one who freed him.”

 

Jimin’s mind goes blank. “You...it was _you?_ He just said he -- well, he never said _how_ he got out, but he never -- ”

 

“I freed him,” Jungkook says with emphasis. “He was bound with chains, and I destroyed them so he could go free.”

 

The words bounce around in Jimin’s head. “Why..?” he breathes, the air stolen from his lungs in shock. “You…”

 

“I wanted to see him live,” Jungkook grimaces. “It would have been wrong to kill someone like him.”

 

“I...see.” Almost, anyways. Jimin can’t quite fathom exactly what was going on in Jungkook’s head, for him to go against his troop and free its prisoner, but at the same time, it seems to be in his character.

 

Or perhaps not, because then Jungkook is saying, “I’ve _never_ done a thing like that, you know. It has to do with _you_ , I think.”

 

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” Jimin says, voice quiet. The air has suddenly grown tense, like anything said from here on out will have a greater effect down the line.

 

Jungkook hesitates to answer; Jimin watches him closely, watches as his eyes fall shut and his jaw tightens. Even with his eyes closed, Jungkook’s face expresses so many emotions at once that Jimin can’t name them.

 

 _It’s beautiful_ , Jimin thinks -- how clearly Jungkook expresses emotions. His brow furrows while he thinks, and Jimin can hear him breathing slowly. _Does he let others read him this easily?_ Jimin wonders. He must be capable of hiding his thoughts and feelings well, if his troop is still unaware of what he’s done.

 

Jimin is so entranced by Jungkook’s face that he misses what Jungkook says. “I -- sorry, what?” he sputters, a heartbeat after whatever Jungkook says.

 

Jungkook fixes him with a look full of intensity, but doesn’t comply right away. He simply stares, and Jimin feels himself flushing with chagrin.

 

“I said,” Jungkook says, voice low, “it could be both.”

 

 _That’s not an answer_ , Jimin thinks, but he doesn’t say it. He’s holding his breath for some reason; Jungkook is not done speaking, he _knows_ it, and the anticipation to hear his answer has Jimin on edge.

 

At least, he thinks that’s why he’s on edge.

 

Suddenly, Jungkook is coming closer to Jimin. Jimin takes a step back, but by then Jungkook is less than an arm’s length away from him, his eyes boring right into Jimin’s own.

 

“I think it could be a good thing,” Jungkook almost whispers. If it weren’t for Jimin’s hearing, he might have missed what Jungkook said (again).

 

“A good thing, huh,” Jimin exhales. “Why?”

 

“You make me better,” Jungkook replies. “I’m a better person because of you.”

 

In his mind, Jimin wonders how Jungkook has been “bettered” because of him. All he’s done is influenced Jungkook to disobey orders, lie, and betray his cause. But what he ends up saying is, “You were probably always a good person. I just...made you act differently.”

 

Jungkook shakes his head slowly. “You made me _act_. Before, I wouldn’t act if I saw something wrong being committed. Now -- ”

 

“That’s _dangerous_ , Jungkook,” Jimin rasps, feeling dread wash over his body; he bites his lower lip to quell the sensation. “I’m not making you _better_ that way.” He’s prevented from saying anything more when Jungkook moves just the slightest bit closer.

 

“You said it again,” Jungkook says, full of eagerness. “My name.”

 

Jimin swallows. “What of it?” he asks, clutching his hands into tight fists.

 

“Tell me yours,” Jungkook answers, and something in his voice is almost pleading. “This whole time, I’ve wanted to know.”

 

“What good would it do you to know? I’ve already caused you enough trouble. Knowing my name wouldn’t change anything.” Jimin finds himself growing defensive, despite knowing that Jungkook means no harm.

 

Still, the feeling of dread from before is becoming stronger -- or something similar to dread. Jimin feels like if he tells Jungkook his name, it will change the course of his life, _permanently_. Call him stupid, or suspicious, or just crazy, but the air between the two of them is charged, and it’s like something supernatural is looming over their conversation, waiting for the next move.

 

“It would,” Jungkook insists, eyes hardening. “It would give me peace of mind.”

 

“It would do more than that, and you know it,” Jimin retorts. “You have to feel it, too. What we’re doing -- what we’ve _done_ \-- it’ll have bigger consequences than you could imagine.”

 

“I know,” Jungkook throws back. “Do you think I haven’t considered what will happen to me if my troop finds out? I could be killed. But I’m here anyways. This is important for me, and it must be for you, if you’re still here talking to me.”

 

To his chagrin, Jimin realizes Jungkook isn’t wrong. Despite his misgivings, Jimin is still here, talking with an enemy soldier as if it’s the most normal thing to do in the world. He doesn’t want to leave; he’s just afraid of what this interaction could lead to.

“I...I don’t know. I shouldn’t be here with you,” Jimin backtracks, feeling cornered. “Maybe we’ve gone too far. I shouldn’t say anything else.” Half-heartedly, he glances beyond Jungkook, to see if there’s a way out, but he doesn’t actually move, or even have the will to move, held back by Jungkook’s intense gaze.

 

“If you leave without telling me, it’s just another reason for me to find you again,” Jungkook interjects, taking notice of how Jimin’s eyes search for an escape.

 

Jimin jerks his head back. If he was cornered before, he has no idea what to call himself now, because Jeon Jungkook has him backed against a stone wall with no way out.

 

“And if I tell you, you’ll leave me alone?” Jimin jerks his chin up at Jungkook (which is annoying, because Jungkook is actually taller than him; he hadn’t paid attention before, but now it’s definitely apparent).

 

“No guarantee,” Jungkook scoffs lightly. “Not if I catch you snooping around our encampments.”

 

The barb is probably meant as a joke, but Jimin takes it harder than he knows he should. “Maybe you Mirnians should just _leave_ our territory, then,” he mutters. “That way we’d never see each other’s faces again.”

 

 _That_ comes out harsh, too, and Jimin instantly regrets the words as he speaks them. But they’re out in the air, and Jungkook is effectively silenced, head bowed down. The atmosphere is heavy with the tepid accusations on both sides, stinging despite their jesting intent.

 

After a few moments, Jungkook raises his head again to look Jimin in the eye. “If you don’t want to see me again, I understand,” he begins, but his voice is uncertain and a little fragile. Jimin wants to cringe. He hadn’t meant to be so abrasive with his comment.

 

“It’s not that. Well, not really. I just...if we get caught meeting, I worry about what the consequences will be,” Jimin cuts in. “For both of us.”

 

“So you do want to see me again?” Jungkook asks, sounding surprised, but also a little teasing.

 

“I never said that,” Jimin snaps, but he falters a little. “Look...Jungkook,” he begins, for the first time using Jungkook’s name intentionally. “You are...a good person. And I admire that about you. I’m sure that there’s so much to know about you, but I just...I can’t see you again. I’ll give you my name, but you have to promise that the next time we meet -- if we meet again at all -- it won’t be intentional.”

 

Jungkook presses his lips into a line, but nods silently. Jimin continues. “I’ll admit that meeting you has been a real...experience. And I’ve probably changed, like you have. But this... _thing_ we have, it can only end in one way, and that’s with somebody dead.”

 

“I understand,” Jungkook says quietly. “If it’s anything to you, the experience has been the same for me.”

 

“We both walked away with our lives, so there’s benefit whether we admit it or not,” Jimin chuckles weakly.

 

Silence falls again. _Am I going to do this?_ Jimin wonders. _Am I really going to tell this man my name? I must be crazy._

 

Evidently, he is crazy, because his lips form the syllables without a second thought. “Jimin,” he says. “My name is Jimin.”

 

And there it is -- that _thing_ looming over their conversation. Jimin feels weighed down, like something irreversible has been done, set in stone for everyone to see. He only prays that he can hide it from the eyes of his friends -- and enemies.

 

“Jimin?” Jungkook repeats, rolling Jimin’s name around on his tongue (Jimin won’t admit it to anyone else ever, but he likes the way Jungkook says it -- just a little). “Is it...just Jimin?”

 

Jimin barely reigns in a laugh from Jungkook’s almost-timid question, because it’s almost _exactly_ what _he_ had asked Taehyung when he learned Jungkook’s name. “Does it matter?” he says jokingly, and actually does laugh when Jungkook gets a look on his face that’s almost embarrassed. “Park Jimin,” Jimin supplies. “That’s my full name.”

 

“Park Jimin,” Jungkook reiterates, and Jimin can’t help but smile a little at how he says it.

 

“Now don’t come looking for me, or I might have to kill you,” he says teasingly, though it’s a weak attempt at a joke. Because who knows? Maybe they will cross paths again, and maybe that encounter won’t be as friendly as this one.

 

“Well, I guess I’d prefer not to die with one of your arrows planted in my skull,” Jungkook tosses back, and his words are as empty as Jimin’s. “Thank you for telling me your name, Jimin.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Jimin replies, and leaves it at that. He doesn’t know what else to say.

 

Neither of them speak again for a while after that. Jimin feels that they’re definitely done with their conversation, and he has game to pick up (or not, if the snares are empty again). Jungkook most likely has places to be, too, but still he remains, shifting from foot to foot.

 

After waiting long enough, Jimin clears his throat. “Did you...need help getting back to your troop?” he asks slowly.

 

He must have hit the mark, because Jungkook winces slightly, but nods. “I don’t know my way around these woods,” he admits. “The only reason I found you and your...friend was because you left a pretty big trail behind you.”

 

Jimin swears inwardly. _Careless_ , he thinks. “Well, I can show you back to the clearing, if you’d like,” Jimin offers. “I…assume you can find your way back from there.” Jungkook hadn’t really given much information on his troop’s whereabouts, and even though Jimin should logically be trying to pry for it, he doesn’t have the will to -- maybe his body is just done fighting and killing for now.

 

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Jungkook laughs nervously. “I feel kind of foolish for being so lost, but…”

 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Jimin waves off Jungkook’s doubt. “I’m guessing it’s your first time here anyways.”

 

“You’d be right about that,” snorts Jungkook, and Jimin laughs again, this time with real humor.

 

He steps forward, and Jungkook makes way for him to pass. He walks a few paces before turning his head back to Jungkook. “Follow me. I’ll get you back to your friends.”


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyyyyyyyyyy i'm so sorry for the late update ''''' university just started and it kind of kicked my ass for like two weeks :') i might be a bit spotty on updates for a bit while i try to readjust, so sorry in advance for that!
> 
> onto news! i'm introducing a second beta of mine, my fellow plotter and resident bae ForeverBlackSun !!! she's gotten super into the universe and i'm lucky to have her on my team! please look forward to the work we churn out together!
> 
> and finally, actual chapter notes: i bring you Feelings and Pain :)

“Kook! There you are! Where the hell have you been? We were worried sick when you didn’t come back before lunch!”

 

Of course, it’s Yugyeom who greets Jungkook first. He’s standing on the boundary of the camp, leaning against a lone tree with his lance propped up between his hands.

 

“Sorry,” Jungkook apologizes. “I just got a little lost.” _And also caught up talking to the most interesting person I’ve ever met_ , he thinks to himself, but he can’t quite say that here.

 

“Gods, Jungkook, we’re going to have to start _following_ you on your thinking walks; you were gone for the _longest_ time,” Yugyeom says with a frown. “Suga was distraught over your disappearance.”

 

“So by default, everyone else was too,” Jungkook sighs, resting his hand on his sword. “I’m _fine_ , Kyum. I’ll go check in with Suga now and apologize.”

 

“You do that,” Yugyeom agrees. “I’ll see you later on, okay? And please don’t wander off again, really. We were planning on sending out a search party if you didn’t show up.” Yugyeom places a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, face clearly expressing his exasperation, before walking off, probably to inform the others of Jungkook’s return.

 

Jungkook grimaces, feeling guilty for causing his friends to worry. _It really didn’t feel like I was gone that long_ , he thinks, _but I guess time just got the better of us_.

 

_Us_. Jungkook turns the word over in his head. It’s foreign -- not the word so much as what he’s using it for. _Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin. A Mirnian and an Irisian_.

 

The thought sends excitement up his spine. He finally _, finally_ knows his archer’s name: Park Jimin. Jungkook doesn’t know exactly what’s so great about knowing his name, but he feels _good_. Like a weight has been lifted off his chest, or something along those lines.

 

Despite his guilt from worrying his friends, Jungkook feels light. There’s a sort of spring to his step that he can _feel_ , and others probably can see. It’s definitely from learning Jimin’s name, and talking to him, and seeing him, and also finding out he isn’t married --

 

_No!_ He immediately cuts that thought off. _We’re never going to see each other again. Hopefully. So stop thinking about him like that_.

 

Jungkook finds it incredibly difficult to stop thinking about Jimin “like that”, though. Just after Jimin and his friend had taken off with the two kids, Jaebum had flicked Jungkook on the forehead. “What the _fuck_ , Jungkook,” he’d scolded, “that guy was _married_. He had _kids_ , and you were ogling him like Suga ogles Namjoon when he thinks nobody’s looking.”

 

He hadn’t been able to see his own face, but Jungkook is pretty sure he was redder than a tomato at Jaebum’s remark. The other soldiers had snickered, much to Jungkook’s embarrassment, but he managed to deliver his message to Jaebum (Suga had wanted Jaebum to return for sword training) before going off on a “thinking walk”.

 

_Jimin is very beautiful_ , Jungkook’s mind thinks, completely on its own, causing him to physically sputter, which in turn attracts the attention of people around him. Instead of giving them a stern glare like usual, he keeps his head down and trained on his feet until he reaches the security of Suga and Namjoon’s shared tent.

 

“Suga?” he calls out meekly, moving the tent flap aside to peer in.

 

Almost immediately, he hears swearing from the dimness of the tent, the shifting of metal and fabric, and then Suga is scrambling to haul Jungkook into the tent by the arm; Jungkook is barely able to process what’s happening before he’s being forcefully seated on the floor.

 

“Do you,” Suga begins, voice strained, “have _any_ idea how _worried_ we were about you when you didn’t return with Jaebum?” Jungkook can’t see his face -- the light shines in from behind Suga and reflects off of his armor-- but the tone of his voice tells Jungkook his face is probably scrunched up, the way it gets when Suga is uncontrollably stressed.

 

Jungkook bows his head in shame. “I’m sorry, Suga,” he says quietly. “I just needed some space.”

 

“In the middle of a foreign forest, where people -- people who _do not_ like us, mind you -- are going around with weapons. Jungkook, what were you _thinking?_ Jaebum said you left him in some clearing deep in the woods, where there were Irisian hunters going around; you couldn’t have stayed closer to camp?” Suga huffs. “That’s _dangerous_.”

 

_That’s dangerous, Jungkook_.

 

Jungkook is pretty sure he flinches; Jimin’s voice overlaps Suga’s in his head, and his face replaces Suga’s for a second (the memory of the way Jimin had _said_ it appears: he’d dug his teeth into his lower lip, and Jungkook was just transfixed by the action. He wonders if Jimin had done it on purpose).

 

Suga catches the flinch, and suddenly the anger is gone from his body; Jungkook sees it dissipate from his shoulders and his neck. Suga drops to his knees to kneel in front of Jungkook.

 

“Mother of the Twins, Jungkook,” Suga sighs. “Please don’t do that again. At least take someone with you, or stay close. You don’t know how terrified I was when I heard you weren’t back by noon.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook mumbles again, leaning his head forward. He’s a little surprised, but definitely not annoyed when Suga touches his own forehead to Jungkook’s. The rareness of the gesture, the worry in Suga’s voice; they all bring Jungkook down from the high he’s been on since meeting Jimin.

 

Suga sees him as family, after all; Jungkook and Namjoon exist in place of the true-blooded family that scorns Suga’s existence. Jungkook shuts his eyes in shame. _I wasn’t thinking at all,_ he laments. _Not about the people who love me most._

 

“I wasn’t thinking at all,” he whispers. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

 

Suga sighs back, pressing his nose to Jungkook’s forehead. “Just don’t do it again, brat,” he says tiredly.

 

At that moment, Namjoon makes an entrance into Suga’s tent. “Suga! Jungkook is back! Yugyeom saw him -- oh, thank Sylla, Jungkook, you’re alright!” he gasps, rushing to kneel down beside Jungkook and Suga; his black mage’s cloak billows around him as he sinks to the ground.

 

Jungkook pulls away from Suga and gives Namjoon a weak smile; in return, Namjoon gives him a tight hug and then a flick on the forehead. “Jeon Jungkook, you scared the life out of us,” he scolds, but Jungkook knows he’s too relieved to be angry.

 

“Ack!” Jungkook rubs at his forehead. Namjoon flicks _hard_ , for all his clumsiness. “You sound like you’re trying to be my parents,” Jungkook laughs once he’s recovered, trying to lighten the mood even though Namjoon’s appearance has already done so significantly.

 

“We’re your parents away from your parents,” Suga drones, but the corner of his mouth quirks up a little bit. He leans just the slightest bit into Namjoon, and Namjoon immediately drops his head to rest on Suga’s shoulder. “We take care of you because nobody else will out here.”

 

“Well, thank you very much for that, you’re doing a lovely job,” Jungkook replies, and while it’s partly sarcastic, it’s also true. Jungkook very much appreciates the affection Suga and Namjoon shower upon him; sometimes he wonders if he serves as practice for their future children.

 

_Suga and Namjoon really are the model couple_ , Jungkook thinks fondly, observing how they seem to relax into each other’s presence. They’re not too physical -- at least not in public (the troop has made a game out of trying to find them in the middle of something romantic, it’s so rare) -- but their support for each other is unquestionable. Really, they’re the envy of every single member of the troop for the steadfast nature of their relationship. _One day, they’ll have the perfect family_.

 

Jungkook isn’t allowed to bask in the glow of family for long, though. Suga and Namjoon are already giving each other serious looks, and Jungkook knows that he’s about to be told something important.

 

They rise to their feet; Jungkook hastily does the same. “What is it?” he asks nervously. _They couldn’t know about Jimin and me...right?_

 

“We received a message from command while you were gone,” Namjoon replies, placing a hand on Suga’s shoulder. Jungkook feels relief flooding his body, but the sensation vanishes as Namjoon continues. “Apparently what the Irisians stole was something very important.”

 

“Important? That convoy had been on its own for _months_ ,” Jungkook gawks. “What did they steal?” Inwardly, he’s beginning to feel the onset of panic. _What if Taehyung...if Jimin...how could I have been so foolish? What have I done?_

 

“Meeting,” Suga says gruffly, and at first Jungkook doesn’t understand. “We were waiting for you to get back before calling a meeting among the captains to discuss it.”

 

“Oh.” Jungkook flushes, feeling his breath catch in his throat. “I’m...sorry.”

 

“Don’t worry. There’s nothing we can do about it while we’re on the move, at any rate,” Namjoon says with a humorless chuckle. “We can have the meeting now,” he adds to Suga. “Shall we convene here?”

 

Suga nods. “Jungkook, gather the others,” he orders, already moving to clear space in the tent.

 

“Of course,” Jungkook replies, and he exits the tent as swiftly as he can to hide his growing sense of alarm. He approaches a lone soldier standing beside one of the tents. “Where are the other captains?” he asks, hoping his voice doesn’t sound too strained.

 

The soldier directs him to one of the campfires, where he finds Jin and Jackson laughing over terrible jokes (he feels bad when their laughter dies down after giving his message). They follow Jungkook to find the other two captains -- Jaebum is resting in his tent, and Yugyeom is practicing with his sword on the edge of the encampment.

 

Together, they hastily make their way to Suga’s tent.

 

“What did Suga say to you?” Yugyeom mutters to Jungkook, walking beside him. “I thought he was just agitated over you not being here.”

 

“Something’s come up,” is all Jungkook can choke out. Guilt and dread have a death grip on his throat. Yugyeom doesn’t press further, and it’s silent after that.

 

“Took you long enough,” Suga jokes emptily as Jungkook and the other captains enter the tent. Suga is standing to the back of the tent, and Namjoon is sitting on his cot.

 

“Well, we’re here now,” Jin says back, glancing at the solemn looks on Suga and Namjoon’s faces. “What do you have to share? It doesn’t look good.”

 

Namjoon sighs, putting his face into his hands. “It isn’t. You remember the raid on the village?”

 

Everyone grunts in assent. Yugyeom sits down on the ground and is joined by Jackson, who places his chin on his hands. “We’d be hard-pressed to forget _that_ , for all the trouble it caused us,” Jackson scoffs.

 

“You’ll just _love_ the trouble it’s brought us now, then. Command’s sent us a lovely message,” Namjoon mutters, before looking to Suga. “Suga, if you would please elaborate?”

 

Jungkook focuses on the blond-haired troop leader. Suga sighs, turning his face from Namjoon to the other captains. “The spies we were sent to capture attacked and stole information from a lone convoy in the region shortly before the raid,” he begins.

 

The captains all nod in understanding, but Yugyeom breaks in, saying “All of that convoy’s information was outdated, though. They’ve been out of contact with the main force for months, so the spies’ effort was pretty much useless.”

 

“Correct,” Suga agrees with a small nod, but his expression is still grim. “Their maps and battle plans were too old to be of use to the spies, so we don’t need to worry about our tactics being discovered through that information.”

 

“So we could have just gotten rid of the prisoner on day one,” Jaebum snorts, and Jungkook winces, just the slightest bit _._

 

“No,” Suga snaps. “That convoy was part of a classified mission to search for ancient artifacts which could aid our side of the war. For almost four months, they found nothing, but just before it was attacked, something was unearthed. The men in the convoy were attempting to decode it.”

 

Jungkook’s stomach twists painfully. “You can’t mean…”

 

Namjoon nods, the movement drawing Jungkook’s wide eyes immediately. “Yes. The spies took the artifact before the convoy had even alerted anyone else to its existence.”

 

“So how did command even find out the artifact existed?” Jackson interjects. _A fair point_ , Jungkook tells himself. _The artifact might not exist at all, right?_

 

Of course, Jungkook knows he’s just trying to rationalize his actions at this point, because it’s becoming quite clear that what he’s done could put a lot of people in jeopardy.

 

“After reading through some of the documents that remained after the attack, someone in command found a report about its finding,” Suga explains. “It’s real, and the Irisians almost certainly have it.”

 

The atmosphere tenses at his words, and Jungkook feels slightly sick. “Do they...do they know what the artifact is?” he asks weakly. “Can they use it?”

 

“We aren’t sure,” Namjoon answers for him. “ _Our_ men weren’t able to determine its purpose before the attack, other than that it was a tome. The report only described it as encoded and sealed with some kind of magic.”

 

“If it was protected with _both_ , it must have been important to whoever buried it,” Jin comments. His fingers tap a nervous rhythm on his healing staff, which he grips tightly in his right hand. “Were there no soldiers who could have seen to the magic seals?”

 

“No,” Suga says bluntly. “Whoever was in the convoy wasn’t prepared well for a find like that.”

 

“This is a mess,” Jackson whistles. “What are we supposed to do about it?”

 

“Besides forfeit our heads in compensation for losing the fort _and_ a prisoner who evidently knew important things,” Jaebum adds dryly.

 

“They might not know,” Jungkook retorts, unable to stop himself. “If our men didn’t know what the thing was, there’s a chance that the Irisians don’t either.”

 

“Yes, but the convoy didn’t have mages to study the artifact; they’d all gone to the front to assist in emergency zones,” Namjoon counters, pointing a finger at Jungkook. “In the attack on the fortress, there were at least two mages among the enemy ranks.”

 

“Two mages...I only saw one,” Yugyeom muses.

 

“I saw one, he was wearing the same robes you have, Namjoon,” Jackson says, snapping his fingers.

 

Namjoon’s face pales. “He had red and black robes?”

 

Jungkook instantly recalls the man he’d fought before crashing down to the prison where he’d freed Taehyung (he feels light-headed at the memory, which clashes with the new information). “I saw a mage, too. He fought with a sword, and his robes were red and black; it was too dark for me to see his face, though.”

 

The panicked glance Namjoon gives to Suga sets Jungkook’s worries on fire. “What’s so important about the robes?” he asks warily.

 

“It means that he was educated at the school in Trine,” Namjoon half-groans, half-wails into his hands. “He’ll know how to decode that thing, and when he’s done, there’s a good chance he’ll know how to use it, too.”

 

_I’m a fool_ , Jungkook thinks. _I’m a soft-hearted, weak minded, blind fool. I should have never let Jimin and Taehyung go._

 

But as he thinks it, there is no real force behind his thoughts. Deep down, he still feels he did the right thing. His mind is just clouded by the dangerous implications of this new information.

 

“So what’s our position in this?” Jaebum asks, jerking Jungkook back into the present.

 

“We, along with several other small troops, have been tasked with recovering the artifact. We were the last ones to have seen the enemy holding it,” Suga drones. “Now we know the attack on the fortress was to free the prisoner rather than cripple our troop, but we don’t know much about the enemy troop.”

 

“I had no idea one even existed in the area,” Yugyeom mutters to Jungkook.

 

“Do we have any information on that troop’s whereabouts?” Jin inquires. “It must be fairly far from where we are now, we’d have to return to the fortress to go searching for them.”

 

“We can’t go back _now_ , we’re halfway to Kysh already,” Jackson argues back. “We’d have been traveling for nothing if we went back.”

 

_Traveling_ , Jungkook thinks, and then it clicks. Jimin had been in the forest, far from the fortress or the village where the raid had taken place. He hadn’t been with many enemies -- _just his fake husband_ , comes a random thought, which Jungkook swats away -- but he had been _hunting_. The bag he was carrying was too full to feed just himself and the three others with him.

 

_They’re on the move._

 

“We’re going to continue the journey to Kysh,” Suga says firmly. “We can begin to gather information on the enemy while we’re there, as well as rest the soldiers and restock before heading out again.”

 

Suga’s eyes flit to Namjoon for a second, who catches the glance and sighs. “It’s important that we are the troop to complete this mission,” Namjoon says, standing from his seat on the cot. “The troop which recovers the stolen artifact will be rewarded, which means -- ”

 

“ -- potentially increasing size and also getting better supplies,” Jin finishes, voice excited.

 

“And not to mention prestige,” Yugyeom throws in. “We _have_ to find this artifact.”

 

“I _know_ we will,” Jackson hoots, clapping Yugyeom on the shoulder and jostling Jungkook in the process. “After all, we have the best lead of anyone on this mission!” Jackson adds, flashing a grin up at Jungkook.

 

Jungkook nearly chokes, thinking that Jackson is referring to him, before realizing _no, Jackson has no idea that I know Jimin. Nobody knows. We’re safe._

 

“If there’s nothing else to discuss, this meeting is adjourned,” Suga announces. “We have two days until we reach Kysh, which is two days to rest and prepare before we can make any progress on this mission.”

 

The other captains all hum in agreement, and then they’re moving out of the tent, discussing amongst themselves what they think of the mission. Jungkook follows slightly behind, reeling from the clashing emotions in his head. He catches snippets of the conversations in front of him, barely processing the words.

 

“I wonder if there’ll be a big confrontation,” Jackson says excitedly to Jaebum, who shrugs and scratches his head.

 

“I hope not. That could result in the loss of a lot of our men.” Jackson makes an “oh” sound, and then he and Jaebum split off to different parts of the camp.

 

Still in front of Jungkook are Yugyeom and Jin. “If it comes down to it, I think this’ll be a more covert mission,” Jin admits to Yugyeom. “I worry about what could happen if the Irisians find out how to use the artifact.”

 

“That’s assuming it can be used,” Yugyeom replies. “What if it’s just something stupid, like where to find hidden treasure?”

 

“Like I said before: if it is as heavily protected as the report claims, it’s pretty important. You don’t seal a _treasure map_ with magic,” Jin scoffs, nudging Yugyeom’s shoulder.

 

“Alright, alright,” Yugyeom laughs, putting up his hands. “I’m hoping just as much as you that whatever it is isn’t important.”

 

_I’m hoping so, too,_ thinks Jungkook bleakly, watching as Yugyeom and Jin head over to a campfire and sit down.

 

He trudges back to his tent alone, wallowing in confusion as he sheds his armor. _What do I do?_ he wants to yell. _Have I condemned us all by letting them go?_

 

_It’s what I get for caring, I guess_ , he tells himself as he plops down onto his cot, even though he still feels no wrong for sparing Taehyung and Jimin; at least he cared about good people.

 

In the silence of his tent, Jungkook wishes vehemently that Jimin was here to talk to. _He would understand me,_ Jungkook thinks sadly, before rolling onto his side, wondering what Jimin would say.

 

\--

 

“Holy _fuck!_ Jinyoung! Mark! Are you two okay?!”

 

Jimin is currently searching the collapsed remains of Mark and Bambam’s tent, which had, just a few moments prior, exploded in a cloud of black smoke -- and in broad daylight, too.

 

“Mark?! Jinyoung?!” he calls again, trying to find his way around the blackened heap of tent. “Anyone?!” He’s prevented from calling out again by the smoke, coughing and covering his mouth with both hands.

 

“What in the name of -- oh, _gods!_ ” comes a shriek from behind Jimin. Jimin turns his head slightly, squinting at whoever it came from.

 

It’s Bambam; he runs over to Jimin’s side, panting, looking from the wreckage to Jimin and back, eyes wide. “What happened?” he gasps, before the smoke gets to him, too, and he begins coughing, eyes squeezed shut. “Our tent -- is he -- was he inside?”

 

“I -- I have no -- no idea.” Jimin’s reply is broken up by loud, harsh coughs. “One second, it -- it was _fine,_ and now -- ”

 

“Jimin! Bambam! What just happened?!” The new voice belongs to Hoseok, who stands at a distance with the most perturbed look on his face. “Did Mark’s tent just -- ”

 

“Explode? Yeah, I -- I think so,” Jimin wheezes back; his eyes are starting to water from the smoke. “I have no idea what just -- what just happened, do you think you could -- fix it up?” he asks, gesturing to the tent.

 

“You want me to use concordant magic?” Hoseok asks, eyebrow raised.

 

Jimin is about to say “if you wouldn’t mind, we’re choking on smoke here,” but he’s interrupted by rustling from the ruined and collapsed tent.

 

Bambam yelps in surprise, but less than a heartbeat later he’s rushing to cross through the wreckage, trying to reach the moving part. “Oh, thank _Sylla,_ ” he gasps, before falling into a bout of coughing. “Jimin -- Jimin, I think they’re -- I think they’re alive -- ”

 

“On my way,” Jimin rasps, trying to follow. Behind him he can hear Hoseok coming forward to help as well.

 

Before they can make it halfway to Bambam, a hand shoots out of the wreckage, covered in soot but very much alive. Bambam lunges for it immediately, latching on and pulling back as hard as he can.

 

“Oof!” Bambam ends up tumbling backwards, yanking a blackened figure out from the debris with him. They both fall into fits of coughing; the rescued person rolls onto his side, revealing himself as Mark.

 

“Mark!” Jimin calls. “Mark! What -- what happened?” Mark doesn’t answer, still overtaken by coughing and curling into a fetal position. Jimin guesses his question went unheard. He feels his mind begin to race. _What about Jinyoung? Please let him be alive too_.

 

The gods must hear Jimin’s prayers, because there’s more movement from the tent, and then at the very edge of the heap, another blackened figure is crawling his way out from under the debris.

 

“Jinyoung!” Hoseok gasps, instantly running to the other mage’s side. Jinyoung is lying prone on the ground, coughing up a storm and clawing at the grass. Hoseok tugs him the rest of the way out from under the debris, kneeling at his side to check for injuries. “Jimin!” he calls. “Get Mark out of there. Bambam, over here _now_. I think Jinyoung’s been burned a little.”

 

“On it,” Bambam replies reluctantly, throwing Mark one last worried glance before staggering out of the mess to Jinyoung’s side. His hand is already glowing with healing magic.

 

Jimin spares the three men one more glance before hurrying to Mark’s side. “Mark,” he rasps. “Mark, you okay?”

 

The grunt Jimin receives in response is neither encouraging nor worrying; Jimin hooks on arm under Mark’s shoulders and hauls him up to his feet. “Think you can walk?” Jimin asks Mark, trying not to cringe at the disturbed smoke and ash swirling around them.

 

“If you don’t drop me,” Mark groans. Together, they limp over to where Bambam is healing Jinyoung, and Jimin lays down Mark as gently as he can in the grass. Mark lets out a little grunt, but doesn’t say anything, just lying on his back, chest heaving in the fresh air and eyes closed.

 

Around the wreckage, the other members of the unit are beginning to gather, murmuring amongst themselves about what could have happened. Jimin spots little Seokmin and Seungkwan weaving between the adults to the front.

 

Unintentionally, he makes eye contact with Seungkwan, and then the little boy is running across the clearing between crowds and chaos to join him. Dazedly, Jimin wonders where Taehyung is -- he was supposed to be watching the children, but then Jimin supposes it doesn’t matter anyway. Seungkwan is...interestingly attached to him.

 

When Jimin had returned from hunting the day he’d rescued the boys -- and also seen Jungkook -- Seungkwan had been waiting at the edge of the camp for him. “He was insistent on waiting for you,” Youngjae had told Jimin over dinner. “He wouldn’t do anything but sit there until you got back.”

 

And when Jimin _was_ back, Seungkwan followed him everywhere. At first, it had been annoying because Seungkwan wouldn’t actually _talk_ to Jimin, just pout and look away, but  on the second day, he’d tugged on Jimin’s tunic from behind with his head bowed, and in a small voice had said, “I’m sorry for being mean,” before running off to gods know where.

 

He’s been growing on Jimin ever since, even though Jimin is loathe to admit it. _I’m going soft on kids_ , he’d thought bleakly, watching Youngjae and Taehyung play with the boys from afar.

 

Now, Seungkwan comes to a stop beside Jimin, glancing between him and Mark. “What happened?” he asks in that tiny voice.

 

Jimin sighs and plops down beside Mark, patting his shoulder gently. “I have no idea, Seungkwan,” he sighs. “We have to wait for Bambam to fix up Jinyoung and Mark first.”

 

“Can’t he fix them faster?” Seungkwan says, nose scrunching up. “It looks like they’re very hurt.”

 

“Bambam can only work so fast,” Jimin chides ( _chides_ , like some _parent;_ Jimin has no idea what’s gotten into him); he also knows that Bambam would be over here with Mark if Jinyoung’s case wasn’t serious. “Healing magic doesn’t work right away, it needs some time to set in.” At least, Jimin thinks that’s the case. He isn’t a healer, so he really doesn’t know.

 

“Maybe I should be a healer too, then,” Seungkwan says. “Maybe it won’t take forever to heal.” His innocent words make Jimin laugh and reach out to ruffle Seungkwan’s hair.

 

“Well, for now, you know what you can be? My messenger,” he chuckles. “Go find Taehyung and Youngjae for me, will you? Bring them here, please, and tell them to bring some water.”

 

“I can do that,” Seungkwan chirps, clapping his arms against his sides in an imitation of the Irisian salute (Jimin is pretty sure Taehyung taught him and Seokmin that). “I’ll bring them right back!” Then he’s running off as fast as his little legs can carry him, waving to Seokmin and saying, “We have a mission! We have a mission!”

 

The sight makes Jimin smile tiredly. From beside him, Mark lets out a strained laugh. “I had no idea you were so good with kids,” he says, opening his eyes and smiling weakly.

 

“Tch. Don’t make me sound so fluffy,” Jimin scoffs. “He’s just eager to please.”

 

“Keep telling yourself that,” Mark teases, letting his eyes slide shut.

 

It isn’t much longer before Bambam is scrambling over to Mark’s side, looking him over for any injuries.

 

“You’re not burned,” Bambam notes, relief flooding his eyes. “Just some small cuts and bruises, and your head’s been jostled around enough to disorient you. You’re much better off than Jinyoung. What happened?”

 

“Jinyoung didn’t tell you?” Mark says, wincing as Bambam begins to gently treat the cuts on his arms.

 

“He was just groaning and mumbling things about a book, but he wouldn’t elaborate to me or Hobi when we asked. What exactly _were_ you two doing in there?” The smirk in Bambam’s voice is clear as he jokes, “Having some explosive sex?”

 

“Bam, you _know_ Jinyoung and I aren’t together anymore,” Mark grunts, annoyed. “We stopped seeing each other almost a year ago.”

 

Bambam just snickers. Mark opens one eye to stare at him. “Don’t tempt me to trap you in a shield and _leave_ you there.”

 

They fall into an easy banter, mostly going between Bambam’s lewd jokes and Mark’s half-hearted threats. Jimin entertains their conversation for a few minutes before he realizes Mark is too caught up in threatening Bambam to divulge what happened (or maybe more like they’re too caught up in _each other_ ), so he moves over to Jinyoung, who’s beginning to recover.

 

“Hey, Jinyoungie,” Jimin says. “Feeling better?”

 

Jinyoung doesn’t respond, just sighs. He lies on his back, eyes closed. His shirt has been charred badly, Jimin notices, and there are fading burns on his stomach and chest that Bambam had tended to just moments before.

 

“He’s still out of it,” Hoseok says from across Jinyoung. “But at least he isn’t groaning and bleeding anymore.”

 

“Yeesh, bleeding too?” Jimin raises an eyebrow as he stares down at Jinyoung. “What were they even doing?”

 

“Something about books? I don’t know. I was just about to use concordant magic to repair the tent -- ”

 

“ _We did it!_ ” Jimin jumps back in the grass as Jinyoung bolts upright from the ground, eyes wide and excited. Hoseok tumbles backwards with a shriek.

 

“Mark! We did it!” Jinyoung repeats, rising to his feet rather unsteadily. He does this just as Youngjae appears, carrying a full flask of water.

 

“Jinyoung! Wait! You can’t get up yet!” Youngjae shouts, running towards his adopted brother.

 

“No! No, I’m fine! It’s fine! I did it! We did it!” Jinyoung is wobbling over to the wreckage. He kneels down and begins digging through the debris with his bare hands. “Someone help me find it! Quickly!”

 

Jimin shares a concerned glance with Youngjae, before joining Jinyoung. “What’s gotten into you? You’re making no sense,” he comments, his worry seeping into his voice.

 

“The book! The tome!” Jinyoung turns around to face Jimin. “The one we took from the convoy!”

 

“ _That_ book? What about it? Jinyoung, how _hard_ did you hit your head?” Jimin gawks. When Jinyoung starts to gesture excitedly, Jimin grabs him by the shoulders and forces him to still. “Look. You go over to Youngjae and _sit down_ \-- no, you aren’t going to search for this thing, _we’ll_ take care of it,” Jimin says sternly when Jinyoung begins to protest. “You’re not yourself. Drink some water and let your head clear.”

 

Jinyoung frowns, but when Youngjae comes over and tugs his arm, he lets himself be led away without further protest.

 

“Alright,” Jimin huffs. “Let’s find this book.”

 

He doesn’t get to dig his hands in before there’s a hand on his shoulder; it’s Hoseok, who’s finally recovered from the scare Jinyoung gave him.

 

“Let me,” Hoseok sighs. “Catch me when I faint, will you?”

 

“Of course.” Jimin nods and steps back, waiting for Hoseok to use concordant magic. At best, the magic will restore the tent to its previous, un-exploded state; at worse, it’ll clear the smoke and ash enough to search without suffocating -- concordant magic is unpredictable. Either way, Hoseok will end up passed out, because concordant magic uses copious amounts of energy; Jimin stands behind Hoseok, ready to catch him when he falls.

 

_I wonder what it feels like to use concordant magic_ , Jimin muses to himself as Hoseok goes to work. _Well, I guess I would wonder what any magic feels like besides tracking and fauna._ Jimin often finds himself awed by the abilities of others; he thinks the things they’re able to do with their magic are incredible.

 

Not that he feels inadequate; Jimin is perfectly happy with his own magic, knows he serves his purpose well. Still, he can’t help but be curious ( _wouldn’t anyone?_ ).

 

There’s a flash of light and the sweet sound of concordant magic; Jimin has never been able to place exactly _what_ it is, but it makes him feel good, like all of his warmest memories have come surging into his mind at once. Then Hobi is crumpling to the ground, and Jimin catches him with a huff.

 

“ _Hoseok!_ ” comes a shout behind Jimin; he cranes his neck as far back as he can and catches a glimpse of Taehyung running towards them.

 

“Hobi,” Taehyung gasps, sliding to the ground next to Jimin and Hoseok; he cups Hoseok’s cheek, running his thumb over the skin, before looking to Jimin nervously. “Did he just..?”

 

“Concordant magic,” Jimin clarifies, trying to keep his voice calm even though he wants to laugh. Taehyung has always been so protective of Hoseok; it’s adorable. “He’s fine. Just needs some water.” Jimin turns his head to the tent. _Oh, wow_.

 

The tent has been fully restored, white burlap billowing slightly in the wind. _You would never even know that it burned down in the first place_.

 

“Good job, Hobi,” Jimin says quietly, patting the sleeping Hoseok’s arm awkwardly. “Tae, will you take him to your tent? He should sleep for a bit -- that job probably drained a _ton_ of energy.”

 

“I’ve got him,” Taehyung murmurs, taking Hoseok gently in his arms. “You did so well, love. I’m proud of you,” he says, pressing a kiss to Hoseok’s temple, before carrying him away.

 

Jimin’s heart aches unusually at the sight; he frowns to himself. _Why?_ he wonders. _It’s sweet, but I’m used to it, so why do I..?_

 

He dismisses the thought after a moment, rising to inspect the restored tent. “The tome, right?” he mutters to himself, pushing aside the tent flap to peer inside.

 

Inside the tent, everything seems normal. Mark and Bambam’s cots, dragged together, lie covered in furs and woven blankets; the armor chest is closed. On top of the chest are several unlit candles, restored all the way to their original size, and --

 

\-- the tome.

 

Warily, Jimin approaches the tome. It’s closed, hinting at nothing beyond its simple brown leather binding. When he’s close enough to grab the thing, he hesitates. “You...you’re a dangerous thing, aren’t you,” Jimin breathes, arm half-extended towards the book. “Are you going to blow me up, too?”

 

Of course, the book isn’t going to respond, so Jimin decides _fuck it_ , if Jinyoung wants it, it must be important enough to be blown up for, and he snatches the book up with one hand; thankfully, it doesn’t explode on contact, so he hurries to carry it out of the tent, holding it as far away from himself as he can.

 

“Here,” Jimin says, handing it to Jinyoung the second he’s in reach. Jinyoung immediately passes the water flask given to him back to Youngjae. “I have no idea what you’d want with _that_ after it almost blew you up, but it’s still intact. Somehow.”

 

Jinyoung scoffs -- much like his normal self; Jimin almost sighs in relief -- and takes the book in both hands. “Of course it’s intact. The explosion was caused by me lifting the magic seals; I didn’t do it _perfectly_ , as you can probably tell, but I got the job done.”

 

“Wait.” Jimin blanches for a second. “You removed the seals?”

 

“Yes, Jimin,” Jinyoung sighs, a hint of irritation seeping into his voice ( _there’s the real Jinyoung,_ Jimin thinks to himself). “But that’s old news; now we have to find out what this thing is.” He’s already turning on one heel, gaze focused hungrily on the book.

 

“Jinyoung, wait,” Youngjae pleads. “At least rest a little longer before you read that thing? Who knows if it’ll blow up again?”

 

“It’s fine, Youngjae,” Jinyoung says with a wave of his hand, already walking back to his tent. Youngjae lets out a groan of frustration before jogging after him, muttering things like “you should be taking care of yourself right now” and “I thought _you_ were supposed to be the reasonable one here.” Jimin thinks it’s very amusing, watching the two brothers journey to Jinyoung’s tent.

 

“Jiminnie,” calls Bambam. Jimin turns around to see Mark on his feet and stretching.

 

“What is it, Bam?” Jimin replies, closing the distance between himself and the two others. “Is Mark finally ready to tell us what happened in there?”

 

“I’m _still_ not convinced you were doing something risky in there,” Bambam says, and though his tone is teasing, Jimin is _almost_ certain he can detect a hint of bitterness, too. Jimin purses his lips, ready to confront Bambam about the... _directness_ of his comment, but a glare from Mark silences the healer.

 

Jimin decides he won’t lecture, because this is something between Mark and Bambam. Honestly, he isn’t quite sure what goes one between the two of them; sometimes he senses aggression, sometimes affection, sometimes _both_ , but even though they were raised together, Mark and Bambam don’t really seem to share a sibling bond (not like Jinyoung and Youngjae do, at any rate). Still, their affection and devotion to each other is clear, so Jimin supposes that one day he’ll figure out exactly what relationship they share.

 

_Then again, why does it matter now?_ Jimin thinks, confused as to why he has chosen _now_ of all times to contemplate the workings of Mark and Bambam’s relationship. _I’ve had all the time in the world already to wonder about it._

 

“Jimin? You there?” Mark is waving his hands slightly at Jimin.

 

“Oh. Sorry. My mind was wandering for a moment,” Jimin says, blinking twice before smiling sheepishly. “Could you repeat what you said?”

 

“That’s not like you,” Mark comments, raising an eyebrow, but he continues on without further complaint. “The tome. Jinyoung finally finished translating that tome you brought back; he came to me when he was done.”

 

“Why? I haven’t known you to be a translator,” Jimin frowns.

 

Mark shakes his head a little. “No, he came to me because he was worried about what would happen when he finally removed the seals.”

 

“Ah, yeah; he told me he didn’t remove them perfectly, which was what caused the explosion,” Jimin says with a nod.

 

“Exactly. He wanted me to be there to throw up a shield if we needed it.”

 

“And I’m guessing you did?” Bambam asks. “Except you didn’t have it up in time, so you weren’t able to protect Jinyoung as much as yourself.”

 

“Was that intended to be an insult?” Mark inquires, eyes narrowed at Bambam.

 

“Actually, no. I was just trying to lay it out. Jinyoung was definitely more hurt than you, so I had already kind of guessed from your injuries. Seriously, no insult intended,” Bambam clarifies, shrugging. “But take it as you will.” Jimin squints at the last bit; is Bambam _trying_ to push Mark’s buttons?

 

Mark sighs, but turns back to Jimin. “It’s almost like he said. I actually _did_ have a shield up already, but it wasn’t strong enough to withstand the force of the explosion. I generated a second, but it didn’t reach Jinyoung in time to protect him well enough from the blast.”

 

“Well, at least you got out in one piece,” Jimin says with a half-hearted grin. He’s more worried about what could have been in that tome to warrant seals that would _explode_ if opened incorrectly.

 

Bambam seems to read his mind. “Whatever was in the tome was probably really important,” he muses. “We should go check on Jinyoungie to make sure he’s alright, and find out what those seals were protecting.”

 

“Agreed.” Mark tilts his head at Jimin. “Should we wait for Hobi and Tae? Hobi’s opinion is probably important -- he _is_ a mage, and Tae’s one of our captains.”

 

“I’ll go grab them,” Jimin answers, already backing up in the direction of the pair’s tent. “Meet you at Jinyoung’s.”

 

“See you there.” Mark waves at Jimin before he walks off, Bambam trailing just behind him.

 

When Jimin reaches Taehyung and Hoseok’s tent, he nearly tramples Seokmin and Seungkwan, who are playing around outside the entrance.

 

“Oh! Jiminnie!” Seokmin stops playing immediately, giving his own imitation of the Irisian salute; Seungkwan does the same, puffing out his cheeks and chest.

 

“Hello, boys,” Jimin laughs. It’s entertaining to watch them copy the soldiers (and a little sad, but he tries not to dwell on it). “Those are some lovely salutes you’ve got there.”

 

“We practiced a lot,” Seungkwan says earnestly; Jimin smiles so hard he thinks his face might actually split in half. _They’re so funny._

 

“I can tell,” Jimin says, trying to relax his face and failing completely when the boys turn their faces away bashfully. “Anyways, I’m here on business. Do you happen to know if Hoseok is awake?”

 

“I think he is,” Seokmin says, craning his neck to peek inside the tent. “I could hear them talking real quiet inside. Want me to check for you?”

 

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll do it myself this time. I have some important news to share with them,” Jimin chuckles, reaching to pull aside the tent flap.

 

“Important news?” Seungkwan gasps. “Can we hear it too?”

 

The pure, innocent eagerness on the boy’s faces makes Jimin’s heart twist; it’s been a very long time since he saw such brightness, much less in a war zone.

 

“Not just yet,” he says slowly, unsure of how to explain the matter _gently_. “The captains have to discuss first, and then we share with everyone else.”

 

“Oh yeah! Jiminnie is a captain,” Seokmin exclaims, knocking his fist against his temple. “I forgot.”

 

“Can we be captains too? I wanna hear the news,” Seungkwan says, pouting slightly, and Jimin sighs inwardly. The excited kids he can deal with; not so much pouty or difficult ones.

 

Jimin decides responding with “Maybe one day” will suffice. Seungkwan and Seokmin groan but don’t argue; Jimin gives them a sympathetic smile before slipping in to see Hoseok and Taehyung.

 

“Jimin,” Taehyung calls from his seat near Hoseok’s cot. “He’s up now.”

 

“Good to hear,” Jimin says. He approaches Hoseok, who’s sitting up in the cot and snacking on some berries. “Hobi, are you feeling well enough to go to Jinyoung’s tent right now?”

 

“Yep,” Hoseok says, popping the “p”, before licking his fingers clean of berry juice. “Why?”

 

“We’re going to discuss the artifact. What might be in it,” Jimin replies. “And you should be there.”

 

“Oh. So that’s the ‘book’ Jinyoung kept referring to. I’ll be right there.” Hoseok begins to climb out of the cot, but Taehyung stops him.

 

“Let me. You’re still tired.”

 

“What are you going to do, carry me on your back all the way to Jinyoung’s tent?” Hoseok’s voice is teasing, despite Taehyung’s apparent seriousness.

 

“If it makes it easier for you,” Taehyung says simply.

 

“That’s unbecoming in public,” Hoseok snorts, but he lets Taehyung help him rise from the cot all the same.

 

“When did ‘unbecoming in public’ ever stop us from anything?” Taehyung retorts; Jimin grins at his words. _It’s very true._ Hoseok and Taehyung have done things together most people wouldn’t in public, sometimes things Jimin feels would be better kept to the bedroom, but he’s never really had an issue with their openly expressed love.

 

Hoseok purses his lips in agreement. He’s able to walk on his own, though Taehyung keeps a hand pressed to his lower back just in case.

 

As Jimin holds aside the tent flap for them, he feels the same twinge in his heart from before. _Why?_ he thinks again, frustrated. _This isn’t new. They do things like that all the time._

 

Still, Jimin feels...strange. Like he’s missing something -- or missing _out_ on something. It’s almost like he craves closeness like what Taehyung and Hoseok share, or even Mark and Bambam, with someone to call his own.

 

_That’s completely ridiculous. Why would I feel like that?_ Jimin is becoming more and more annoyed at the newfound whims of his heart, which include feeling unnecessarily lonesome and destitute. He brushes aside his feelings, because they can _wait_ until he asks for them to come back, and follows after Hoseok and Taehyung. Seungkwan and Seokmin obey his request to _stay put_ until he comes back, waving him off with smiles and cheers.

 

“Alright, we’re all gathered,” Jimin announces as soon as he enters Jinyoung’s tent, holding the tent flap aside for Hoseok and Taehyung once again. “What’s the news?”

 

Barely a heartbeat after he speaks, Jimin notices how the tent’s atmosphere is heavy. He scans the other four faces already in the room; they’re all rigid with tension and emotions too jumbled to read.

 

“Jinyoung?” Hoseok calls out. “Jinyoung, what’s wrong? What did you learn?”

 

The other mage stands on the side of the wooden table, leaning over the tome with his hands pressed flat against the wooden surface. Jimin notices with alarm that his fingers are clawed, frozen, grasping at random sheets of paper. Jinyoung’s eyes are wide, and he stares down at the book with the kind of gaze that doesn’t really _see_ anything.

 

“Jinyoung,” Jimin mimics Hoseok, voice wavering. “What’s wrong?”

 

Slowly -- too slowly -- Jinyoung raises his head to make eye contact with Taehyung, Hoseok, and then Jimin. Jimin nearly recoils; Jinyoung’s spirit seems to have died in the mere minutes they were apart.

 

“A plague,” Jinyoung says hoarsely.

 

“A _what?_ ” Taehyung says, inhaling sharply.

 

“This damn _thing_.” Jinyoung finally moves, shoving the tome across the table towards the three newcomers. Taehyung and Hoseok rush to see it, but Jimin remains rooted to the spot.

 

_A plague_ , Jimin thinks, and dread -- real, bone-chilling, mind-freezing dread, not like what he felt with Jungkook -- begins to wrap its icy fingers around his neck. _It...can’t be…_

 

“No,” Hoseok breathes, covering his mouth with one hand. Beside him, Taehyung has gone pale. Hoseok raises his head to give Jinyoung a horrified look. “Jinyoung, this can’t be -- this is _ancient_ stuff, sealed away by -- ”

 

“It _is_ , Hoseok,” Jinyoung says, voice flat and empty. “This tome details how to wield pestilent magic.” Hoseok whimpers and covers his whole face with both of his hands, and Taehyung gasps in disgust. _Plague magic,_ Jimin’s mind whispers, and it feels like stones are settling at the pit of his stomach.

 

“Gods,” Bambam whispers from the far end of the table. “They were going to use this as a weapon, weren’t they?”

 

“They were going to try to kill us all,” Mark growls, slamming his fists into the table and hunching over. “The _bastards._ ”

 

_No,_ Jimin wants to say. _That’s not possible. Not even the Mirnians could be so cruel._

 

But it’s something he tells himself in vain, because _of course_ people could be that cruel.

 

“They really want our land that badly, huh,” Youngjae murmurs, clenching his jaw. His eyes flit over to Jimin, and Jimin stands to attention immediately. “I thought -- I thought that maybe they were alright people. The soldier we saw in the forest that day -- the one who let us go -- he made me think that they were just like us. I guess...I guess not. He probably wants us dead just as much as the rest.”

 

Jimin’s heart does cartwheels in his chest. _Jungkook_ , his mind whispers. _Jungkook would never. He’s good. He’s different._  

 

He has to physically restrain himself from wincing. _Did you know?_ Jimin thinks, calling out to Jungkook in his mind. _Did you know what your leaders were planning? That they would kill us all for our land?_

 

“They’d have our trade routes, too,” Jinyoung adds, expression growing darker by the second. “By conquering Irise they would control trade on the entire eastern half of the continent.”

 

The thought sends a shiver down Jimin’s spine. He can’t imagine their home city of Eslyn -- a city bustling with trade -- under complete Mirnian control. Again, his thoughts wander to Jungkook. _Jungkook_ , he thinks. _Oh, Jungkook, I can only pray to Livinia you didn’t know. I couldn’t look at you the same if you did._

 

Almost immediately after Jimin thinks it, Hoseok is leaning over the table to speak. “Religion, too. Our patron goddesses are enemies -- Livinia versus Mivellan, the sisters destined to clash for all eternity. A lot of Mirnians are pious worshippers of Mivellan, and winning would prove their goddess’ superiority over Livinia.”

 

For a moment, Jimin wonders if he’s damned Jungkook by praying to Livinia for him, but he’s able to reel in his hysterical thoughts, probably spurred on by fear and shock. _Now is_ not _the time to be worrying for Jungkook -- for the enemy_ , he reminds himself.

 

“You might wonder just how the Mirnian authorities have justified this war to their troops,” Taehyung muses, folding his arms. “I can’t tell if I’m more impressed or disgusted.”

 

“Disgusted,” Youngjae spits; the harshness of his answer startles Jimin. It’s frightening, to say the least, seeing one of the most amicable members of the troop speaking with such anger and hatred.

 

“And that’s not all they want,” Mark adds, looking up to the rest of the captains. “By eliminating us, the king of Mirn would rid himself of competition for the Mirnian throne. Remember that our Queen Chaelin has a claim to it through her parentage, and so does her son, Prince Chan.”

 

“Imagine if she knew about this,” Bambam murmurs, hand covering his mouth. “She’d be furious.”

 

Jimin knows exactly what’s going to be said next, and he dreads it with every bone in his body.

 

“We have to tell her.” Jinyoung is the one who says it. “This information -- if it gets into the wrong hands, we’ll all be dead.”

 

“I agree,” Mark says with a nod. “Once we’ve restocked in Eslyn, we’ll head right to the capital and request an audience.”

 

“What about the front?” Taehyung asks. There’s a small, barely noticeable trace of doubt and hesitance in his voice, one that Jimin only picks up on because he feels the same. Taehyung’s gaze meets his own, and they share a look of understanding.

 

_I guess I wasn’t the only one Jungkook left an impression on_ , Jimin thinks, feeling the tiniest bit relieved. But Taehyung’s gaze doesn’t linger long, and Jimin’s heart sinks again. _Maybe he wasn’t as affected as me._

 

Jinyoung swears under his breath. “I don’t know,” he finally replies. “We’ll have to coordinate it when we arrive in Eslyn, see what other units are available for battle.”

 

“We’d miss out on the chance to press the enemy line back west,” Youngjae mutters. Jinyoung nudges him with an elbow.

 

“You’d only be missing out on bloodshed and sadness,” Jinyoung scoffs. “In the meantime, we need to keep this finding _completely_ under wraps. This stays among us captains _alone_.”

 

“Will we inform the queen of the situation before arriving in Eslyn?” Hoseok asks quietly. Jimin grinds his teeth together; if they _do_ end up sending a bird, he’ll be the one to do it as always -- but the thought of the job doesn’t sit well with him this time.

 

Jinyoung ponders the question before replying with a curt, “No. I don’t want to risk a message being intercepted by Mirnians. They could find out where we’re located if they did, and also the location of the artifact.”

 

“They’re probably running mad looking for it,” Bambam says, voice full of contempt. “‘Oh no! We’ve lost our ultimate weapon to kill all the Irisians!’” he sneers, giving a sarcastic imitation of a Mirnian accent and waving his arms (if Jimin thinks about it, he doesn’t think Jungkook’s accent was that noticeable -- then again, Jimin really shouldn’t care).

 

But Bambam’s comment takes Jimin back to the day he, Taehyung, and Jinyoung had found the tome. _The convoy was so small,_ he thinks. _And Jungkook’s unit didn’t come looking for us for days after we’d attacked. Maybe they didn’t know about the artifact. Maybe the convoy just stumbled across it by accident, and that means the Mirnians -- and_ Jungkook _\-- aren’t all bad._

 

“Maybe -- ” Jimin’s voice is hoarse from disuse and stress; the other captains look at him the moment he makes a sound. “Maybe they don’t know about it,” Jimin finishes, trying not to flush red. _They must think I’m off_ , he realizes. _I’ve been too quiet this meeting, and here I go spouting off nonsense._

 

“Jimin, that’s almost impossible.” Jinyoung frowns, stepping back from the table. “The unit that captured Tae _knew_ we had stolen things from the convoy. That’s why they came looking for us.”

 

Jimin bites the inside of his cheek. “You’re...you’re right. I’m sorry. I was just hoping that maybe…”

 

His tone is sheepish, which the others probably think is because of his comment, but it’s really because he feels foolish for thinking of Jungkook.

 

For reasons completely unknown to him, Jimin is resisting the belief that Jungkook -- or the people he cares about -- could be so dead-set on defeating Irise that mass murder would become an option. He _refuses_ to believe it. _Someone so kind and good could never,_ his heart swears.

 

_And since when has listening to my heart ever done me good?_ his mind responds, but that does little to stop his conscience from doing what it wants to.

 

“Jimin? Jimin. Hey.” Jinyoung’s voice snaps Jimin out of his thoughts, and he feels himself burning with embarrassment. “Jimin, are you alright? You were...out of it.”

 

“I -- sorry. It’s a lot to take in.” Jimin fiddles with his fingers behind his back. “What were you saying?”

 

It’s clear from the looks the others are giving him: they can tell something’s up, but nobody has time to ask before Jinyoung is sighing again. “I was saying it’s alright to wish for the best, but we can’t put our hopes on the Mirnian’s good graces. For all we know, they could be looking right now.”

 

“We do know that there was a unit nearby,” Youngjae says from beside Jinyoung, glancing at Jimin. “They could be close. We might be able to mount an attack on them if they are.”

 

Jimin feels himself go pale. The thought of killing more people, of possibly being forced to kill _Jungkook_ , makes him sick. For the second time, he calls out to Jungkook in his thoughts. _Please, be far away from here. I don’t want to kill you._

 

His plea is unnecessary, Jinyoung and Taehyung turning down the idea almost immediately. “Too risky,” Jinyoung says, shaking his head.

 

“We’d be revealing ourselves,” Taehyung adds. “And we don’t know how many soldiers they have. The odds wouldn’t be in our favor.”

 

“So we wait it out,” Youngjae grimaces, but he doesn’t argue or complain, simply folds his arms and stares down at the tome, still open on the table.

 

Jimin’s own gaze travels to the open tome, fixing on the flowing black handwriting on the page.

 

_Wait it out indeed,_ he thinks; he’s never felt so cold in his life.


	8. eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> askglhasldjlg i'm so sorry for my prolonged leave of absence i honestly thought i'd have this up sooner :') 
> 
> this is definitely a Fluff chapter prepare for happy Feelings and Family ;))))))))))
> 
> ***edit i'm an idiot i forgot to link my beta this chapter i suCK [my bae mari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverBlackSun/pseuds/ForeverBlackSun)

Kysh is the easternmost city of the Mirnian front. They’ve held the city against numerous attempts by Irisians to recapture it, and it remains one of the best-defended, best-equipped stations on the line.

 

Jungkook had never actually  _ been _ to Kysh before; in fact, he’d never even been to a captured Irisian city. All of the cities he’s made stops at are Mirnian, though he’s been through dozens of small Irisian towns and villages. 

 

_ Kysh is a small city, _ he muses, staring up at the ceiling of his room at the inn the troop is staying at.  _ Then again, I am a bit biased. _

 

His home city, Cesta, is the crown jewel of the Mirnian empire, in both the literal and figurative sense. Aside from being one of the wealthiest trade cities in the country, it’s the seat of the monarchy -- everything about Cesta, from the streets to the stores to the social life, is big.

 

“Excuse me, sir,” comes the quiet voice of a little girl. Jungkook rises from the bed he’s lying on to squint at whoever is summoning him.

 

It’s the young daughter of the innkeeper, standing in the entrance to the room. She keeps her eyes down, trained on her feet, and her fingers drum nervously against the doorframe. Jungkook retains a grimace; obviously, she finds him frightening, which sends a pang of guilt and sorrow into his heart.

 

“Your captain has summoned you,” she continues meekly, voice almost a whisper, though still loud enough for Jungkook to hear the slight Irisian accent of her speech.

 

“Ah. Thank you.” Jungkook doesn’t know what else to say, but it’s enough to make the girl to bow quickly and leave. Her motions and body language strike Jungkook, not for the first time.

 

_ Most of the civilians in this city are like that, _ he thinks to himself. When the troop had arrived and traveled through the streets -- first to headquarters and then to the inn -- most of the people in the streets had avoided eye contact with the soldiers. Jungkook is reminded of how Suga had described Irisians living under Mirnian occupation once: “Their hearts are weary and broken. They will rarely look you in the eye, and when they do, it’s as if you’re staring into an abyss of sorrow and pain.”

 

The description had come from one of Suga’s private journals which Jungkook probably should not have touched, but he’d read it anyways, and now finds the accuracy of Suga’s observation slightly terrifying.

 

Once all of his gear has been equipped -- sword, armor, and all -- Jungkook rushes outside to mount his horse and make the short ride to headquarters. He assumes that a meeting is being called for the troop’s captains; they’re finally going to begin planning for the artifact hunt. He isn’t sure if his stomach is churning with anticipation or dread, but he does know that an image of Jimin flits into the back of his mind at the thought.

 

The trip is uneventful; the civilians silently clear a path for him, going about their evening business without a word. Again, he finds himself comparing Kysh to Cesta, even though it’s probably unfair for several reasons (Kysh is  _ much _ smaller than Cesta; its buildings are low and gray, so unlike the grand stone structures of Cesta). The quietness unsettles Jungkook.  _ I’ve never seen a city as silent as this one. It’s unnatural. _

 

None of the civilians make eye contact with Jungkook; they all lower their heads as he passes them upon his horse. It makes him feel very isolated -- for all his appreciation of solitude, this kind of isolation terrifies him.

 

He tries to avoid thinking about it -- or really, avoid thinking at all -- for the rest of the ride, and breathes an immense sigh of relief when he crosses the bridge to headquarters, dismounting and closing his eyes.  _ Here, I am among my friends, _ Jungkook reminds himself, dusting off his short cloak (another note he’s made about Kysh: it’s covered in a fine layer of dust, from the mining industry which keeps the city’s economy afloat).

 

Jungkook nods to the guards stationed at the entrance of headquarters, waiting for the great doors to open; he doesn’t wait longer than a few moments before they’re being swung open for him. He hurries inside, strides long and quick, weaving between the other men in the halls, tuning in and out of idle conversations around him -- though one does catch his attention long enough to make him slow down.

 

“Did you hear? There’s going to be a big push into Irise further south.”

 

“I had no idea; where did you hear that from?”

 

“Overheard it in the mess hall. Apparently that’s why they’ve been piling in more troops here.”

 

“That’s good news. Maybe we’ll gain enough ground to finally think about retaking that port city -- what’s it called? It’s maybe ten leagues southeast of here.”

 

“Oh, I know the one. Eslyn, right? I know we attacked it a while back, but couldn’t keep a hold on it. Hopefully we’ll have better luck this time.”

 

Jungkook feels like he’s been punched in the head by the exchange;  _ Eslyn. Taehyung. His family. _ His steps stutter. 

 

_ Does Jimin live there, too? _

 

It’s an idea he’s never really put thought to, but the more he turns it over in his head, the more sense it makes -- Taehyung’s best friend, part of the same troop, and from the same city. 

 

It also makes his skin crawl. The thought of attacking  _ Jimin’s  _ home is…

 

_ Don’t think about that. It shouldn’t matter anyways. You’re never going to see him again. _ Jungkook grits his teeth and grips his hands into fists, trying to steady his steps.

 

“Jungkookie! You’re almost late,” Jackson teases when Jungkook finally enters the meeting hall. He’s slouching in one of the huge chairs around the table, which is overlain with maps and loose sheets of paper; Jin sits nearby, and Namjoon and Yugyeom are looking over papers . 

 

“Almost,” Jin emphasizes, resting his head on his hand, elbow propped against the armrest of his chair. “We’re still waiting on Suga and Jaebum.”

 

“Where -- ”

 

“ -- are they? The observatory, having their ears chewed off by some superiors,” Yugyeom snorts, cutting off Jungkook before he can really even ask his question.   
  


“Thanks, Kyum,” Jungkook says dryly, moving to sit in one of the empty seats. It feels strange to sit in such an ornate chair; it’s carved from solid wood, with intricate patterns everywhere. Jungkook is more used to the simple chairs from the camps. “Have you been coming up with ideas while you’ve been waiting, Namjoon?” he asks, shifting in the chair.

 

Namjoon shrugs, setting down the papers in his hands. “Sort of. I have some ideas, but I’d prefer to wait for all of us to get here to discuss. After all,” Namjoon laughs, “our best plans are always the ones we create together.”

 

They don’t have to wait very long for Jaebum and Suga; the deep groans of the great doors opening draw everyone’s eyes to their arrival. Both men arrive looking rather annoyed, but neither mentions what happened in the observatory before taking their seats at the table, setting down papers they had been carrying.

 

“Let’s get straight to business,” Suga starts, fiddling with his bracer before resting his hands on the table. “Yesterday, when we arrived here in Kysh, I asked for intel to be collected on any Irisian forces around the fortress or within the range of the nearest Irisian city, Eslyn.”

 

“This afternoon, we received word that an Irisian troop was spotted just outside Eslyn by a scout bird, slightly larger than the force that attacked the fortress,” Jaebum continues for Suga. “It’s likely they’re going to restock and rest their troops there. While we’re unsure if this is the same troop that attacked us, it’s a viable start for our search, and Suga and I think it would be best if we investigate this nearby troop first.”

 

Jungkook feels his heart sink; he doesn’t doubt for a second that it’s Jimin’s troop.  _ I guess I can only pray that Jimin doesn’t have that artifact, or even know what it is, _ Jungkook thinks weakly, slumping a little in his seat.

 

“That makes sense,” Namjoon says, nodding thoughtfully; his right hand is toying with the ring on his left. “Are we opting for a covert mission this time around? It would seem to suit the situation best.”

 

“Exactly what we were thinking,” Jaebum agrees. “The only issue is that our superiors now want us to also lend support to the front line near Eslyn, and I personally don’t feel comfortable sending our regular soldiers on a mission of this importance. Captains only.”

 

“So divide us up,” Jackson chimes in. “Have, let’s say, me, Yugyeom, and -- ” Jackson scans the faces at the table, squinting at each man in turn “ -- how about Jungkookie?” 

 

Jungkook feels himself freeze; before he can speak up, though, Jackson is continuing. “Have the three of us go undercover in Eslyn to collect intel while the rest of you remain here.”

 

_ That’s a  _ horrible _ idea,  _ Jungkook thinks miserably.  _ Sending  _ me _ into that city is the worst idea ever. _

 

“Three of our troop’s feistiest members going off into a foreign city alone,” Jin remarks, humor practically oozing out of his tone. “I tremble at the thought.” Jungkook narrows his eyes, feeling pricked, despite his own horror at being volunteered for the task.

 

“Hey!” Yugyeom protests, voicing Jungkook’s own thoughts, but he laughs. “You’re right, we’re the feisty ones, but we also fit in the easiest, yeah? All you guys are too stiff to just blend in.” 

 

“My point exactly,” Jackson sniffs. “We can cover up our accents well, make friends, and be casual with strangers. Besides, the rest of you are too important to separate from the front lines.” Jungkook feels slightly vindicated by Jackson and Yugyeom’s arguments, but they’re not enough to sooth the clenching in his chest.

  
“As much insult as there was in that statement, I’m inclined to agree with Jackson,” Namjoon chuckles, hand falling away from the ring. “He’s certainly right about being able to fit in better.”

 

“Neither would it do for the leader or second-in-commands to up and vanish suddenly,” Jaebum says with a grin.

 

“I’m most useful on the battlefield, too,” Jin adds, lifting his arm up to show off his robes, white and embroidered with the golden decals of healers. “I would  _ hope _ none of you on the mission would need healing -- the point of  _ covert _ is to avoid conflict, you know.” 

 

“So is this how we want to divide up?” Suga asks, glancing at each captain; his eyes come to a rest on Jungkook. “Jungkook,” he begins, and Jungkook swallows nervously;  _ please don’t ask me, _ he hopes his eyes are saying, but it’s in vain -- Suga continues. “You’ve been quiet the whole time. Will you agree to go to Eslyn as part of the undercover mission?” All eyes turn to Jungkook.

 

There are too many things flying through Jungkook’s mind for him to answer right away. He chews on his lip, wishing that he wasn’t in this position, wishing he was alone, wishing he was out in the forest with -- 

 

_ Jimin. _

 

Jungkook feels something spark in his stomach. Jimin had said not to meet again, true, but he’d meant for Jungkook to not  _ seek him out _ again. If..if he’s being sent to Eslyn on a mission, and he just  _ happens _ to see Jimin...Jungkook wouldn’t exactly be seeking him out.  _ I could talk to him again, _ Jungkook realizes.  _ We...wouldn’t have to kill each other. We couldn’t. It would be too high-profile. _

 

Somewhere in the back of his skull, there’s a little voice chanting at him to think this through, that he’s jumping to probably impossible conclusions, that seeing Jimin again isn’t really that important, but Jungkook can only focus on the fact that  _ he could see Jimin again, _ see his eyes and his lips and maybe that nice smile.

 

“Yes,” he finally answers, stuffing away that tiny voice. “I’ll definitely go if you’ll allow me to.”

 

“No need to ask for permission,” Suga says confusedly. “It’s your choice. I agree with Jackson that you’re one of the most versatile people in our troop.”

 

Heat washes over Jungkook’s cheeks -- both from embarrassment at his blunder and pride at Suga’s praise -- but he dips his head in acknowledgement. “Then I’ll join the mission.”

 

“Good. Now that we’ve settled who will be on the recon detail, we need to discuss matters of communication and what information recon will be looking for.” Suga smoothes his hands over some of the papers in front of him; the papers crinkle slightly, the sound echoing around the hall.  

 

“I’d suggest using a bird for communication, but none of us here have fauna magic; we’d only be able to use standard messenger birds instead of falcons or even swifts,” Yugyeom says with a sigh, pressing his hand to his lips. 

 

“Actually, you might be able to get away with using a swift; I saw a lot of swallow nests before we entered the city, and to the untrained eye a swift looks exactly like a swallow,” Namjoon replies. “You’d be able to fool most people, especially at night.”

 

“Yes, but that still leaves the issue of having to send it, from either end,” Jackson interjects. “We’d have to bring in someone with fauna magic.” Namjoon purses his lips but nods in agreement.

 

“We can’t risk alerting others to this mission,” Suga mutters. “There could be spies.”

 

“Or other troops who want to steal the glory,” Jaebum contends, though he doesn’t sound completely put off by the thought.  _ He’s more concerned with getting the artifact found than getting the glory for finding it, _ Jungkook notes. Not that he has the right to be bothered by Jaebum’s priorities; after all, Jungkook agreed to the mission (almost) solely to see Jimin again. 

 

“You’re all forgetting the bird regulations there,” Jin comments dryly. “Eslyn is one of the strictest cities in Irise for controlling birds that leave and come into the city because of its ports.”

 

There’s a collective sigh of frustration from everyone else in the room (except for Jungkook; he finds that he’s too thrilled at the prospect of meeting Jimin again to be upset), but no argument. 

 

“Birds are out, then,” Yugyeom groans. “Other ideas?”

 

It’s silent while everyone thinks. Jungkook’s own mind is working for a solution (albeit a little  _ too _ eagerly, but he ignores that), and when he stumbles upon one, his mouth falls into an “o”, attracting the attention of Namjoon immediately.

 

“Jungkook? Did you think of something?” Namjoon looks expectantly at Jungkook.

 

“Jin could run messages for us,” Jungkook suggests. “He’s a healer, and healers can travel without attracting much attention at all.”

 

“A fact I’m incredibly grateful for,” Jin laughs. “I’m more than willing to run messages for you, so long as there are enough healers on the front line, but there’s the matter of inspection at Eslyn’s gates.”

 

“Oh!” Jackson exclaims. “I know how you could bypass those. Bring along your medical supplies, like herbs or something, and stuff the messages inside their containers.” 

 

“Wouldn’t they hear the paper if they shook the containers?” Jaebum retorts. “Trust me, I’ve  _ tried _ hiding things inside containers before. It’s especially difficult to hide papers in bottles, and we don’t have the time to create a bunch of boxes with secret compartments.”

 

“Jaebummie, you’ve been using the wrong kind of container,” Jackson laughs, falling back into his chair a bit. “ _ Gourd _ containers are perfect for the job. I’ve used them a hundred times before, never failed me once. You hide things at the very bottom or under the lip. Cheap, easy to find, and you can’t tell if something’s inside when you shake it. Can’t see through it, either.”

 

“Should I be questioning why exactly you needed to  _ use _ such methods of concealment?” Suga asks, but with a small smile. 

 

Jackson replies with a sly grin and a shrug; his nonchalance makes Jungkook laugh a little. “I’m only volunteering what I think will work.”

 

“Is there a specific method of placing the messages inside the gourd?” Namjoon hums, tapping his finger against the table and leaning back. “Would Jin have to practice hiding them?”

 

“It’s not really that hard,” Jackson confesses. “I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, so I’ve had plenty of practice, but it’s easy to pick up.”

 

“I have known healers who store their materials in organic containers only,” Jin points out. “It’s actually practiced by many healers from Irise, so gourd containers would fit right in. Maybe even better than glass.”

 

“I assume you would know what purchases to make in Irise to blend in?” Suga asks airily; Jungkook can tell from his tone that it’s already been decided that Jin will be the messenger.

 

“I know the region and its resources well enough,” Jin says, mouth quirking into a grin. 

 

“You could do periodic trips to the city, so you aren’t always away from the front,” Jungkook offers, before anyone else has the time to inquire as to  _ when _ Jin will deliver messages. “If we discover something urgent and you’re not there, one of us will leave on our own.”

 

“That’s a reasonable idea,” Jaebum agrees. “I was about to admit that I dislike the thought of our head healer being away from the front entirely.”

 

“Does every two weeks sound plausible?” Jin inquires, looking a little worried. “The trip to Eslyn is more a matter of getting across the border undiscovered than a matter of time spent traveling.”

 

“I think that works,” Namjoon says enthusiastically. “Typically you go through your supplies in that amount of time, too, so your cover would have a bit of truth behind it.”

 

“Suga?” Jungkook turns his head towards their leader, who is nodding slowly with his eyes closed.

 

“I approve. Is there a consensus?” Suga opens his eyes scans over everyone at the table once more. Everyone gives some form of affirmation; Jungkook feels himself practically shaking with excitement in his seat. “Since that’s settled, I’ll leave it to you three -- ” Suga points at Yugyeom, Jackson, and Jungkook in one sweeping motion “ -- to determine who delivers emergency messages. We need to discuss getting you across the border before we can put any of this into action.”

 

“Quietly,” Jackson adds quickly. “We can’t attract attention.”

 

“What are our options?” Jungkook leans forward onto the table, balancing his head on his hands.

 

“I did some research,” Namjoon answers, shuffling out some papers and picking one of them up. “Our first option would be to sneak you through the forest east of here; it has a few well-traveled paths on our side of the border, but beyond that we aren’t sure of a clear route. You’d need a guide for that one. It is, however, the quickest and closest option available, with the least expense.”

 

“But how would you skirt the border guard?” Jaebum frowns, hand on his chin. “I imagine the border will be heavily defended on the Irisian side once you’ve passed the forest.”

 

“Pretend to be refugees?” Yugyeom offers. “I overheard something earlier today -- it probably wasn’t for me to hear, but someone in the back of an alley was talking about helping a group of refugees across the border.” 

 

The room goes completely silent after Yugyeom’s words -- the only audible sound is the slow breathing of each captain as he thinks. Jungkook shifts uncomfortably. The implications of that statement -- Jungkook hates to think about it, but it would mean that Irisians here are so unhappy under Mirnian control that they’re desperate enough to flee to unfamiliar Irisian territory.

 

_ Is it really that bad? Are  _ we _ really that bad? _ Questions no good soldier is ever supposed to ask himself; then again, Jungkook figures he isn’t really a “good soldier” in the truest sense anymore. His world, once set so clearly in black and white, is awash in greys of a hundred hues. 

 

Still, Jungkook doesn’t find himself wishing for that solid black and white anymore. This new perspective, full of greys, is what allowed him to save Taehyung’s life and meet Jimin. 

 

Jaebum is the first to speak again after the silence. “Should we report that to our superiors?” he mutters, making eye contact with Suga and Namjoon.

 

Suga remains quiet, but Namjoon bites his lip. “For the time being...I’d say no. That could be the key to getting the three of them across the border with as little trouble as possible.”

 

“What are our other options, then?” Jackson calls out.

 

All eyes return to Namjoon, who picks up a different sheet of paper and sighs. “I have one other solid option, and that’s sending you directly to Eslyn via ship. You’d be under the guise of travelers as opposed to refugees. It’s much safer -- the ship will travel only over calm waters, and it allows you ample time to rest and rehearse your roles as travelers. And we’d require very little outside help, just have to acquire the proper travel documents.”

 

“What are the downsides to that plan?” Jackson asks, with a hint of humor in his tone.

 

“Well, primarily? It’s expensive,” Namjoon replies; there’s a collective groan from around the table. “And it’s also a longer trip. Still,” he pauses, “I think that this is a matter of safety.” Namjoon’s eyes flit from Jungkook to Suga -- a motion Jungkook easily notices. 

 

Suga frowns, glancing around the table before finally stopping to stare hard at Jungkook. Jungkook can almost  _ see _ his thoughts --  _ Suga and Namjoon want to keep me safe, even if that means paying a higher price for it. _

 

“How are our funds now?” Jaebum is the one who voices the question on everyone’s minds. 

 

“Enough for our usual activities, with a small surplus, but acquiring the proper documents will use up that surplus and cut slightly into the usual budget.” Namjoon is grim as he speaks; Jungkook chews on his lip nervously. 

 

_ I’d really rather not be the reason we cut into our troop funds for this, _ he thinks, because he is undoubtedly the only reason Suga and Namjoon are seriously considering the more expensive option.  _ I’m twenty, after all. I can handle myself. _

 

“I’m going to be a glutton and side with the ship option,” Yugyeom announces, after a brief period of contemplation amongst everyone. Jaebum raises an eyebrow at him, but not in a judgemental way. “I mean, I personally think it’s best for us to have time to rest and prepare for the mission, and not have to constantly be on alert for  _ everything. _ That way we can be completely refreshed and ready when we arrive in Eslyn,” Yugyeom clarifies, making a small gesture with his hand.

 

“I agree with that.” Jackson points at Yugyeom, nodding. “I won’t back down from a fight, but if it gives us a better advantage during the mission by taking a more expensive route, I think it’s definitely worth it.”

 

Jungkook purses his lips. It’s clear that he’ll be asked for his own opinion; for the first time since the meeting began, a decision is finally being put to a vote.  _ Honestly, the cheaper option is probably better, _ he decides.  _ Faster, too. We can handle ourselves. _

 

Before he’s even prompted, however, Jin is offering his own two nols. “I’d prefer the forest route option. I’m not trying to say you don’t deserve some rest, but the ship option would cut into expenses we really don’t want to meddle with. If we’re going out to the front line, we’ll need to have all the supplies we can get.”

 

“A fair point,” Suga acknowledges with a nod. “Jaebum, your thoughts?”

 

For a second Jungkook is slightly miffed over being passed over, but then he realizes it’s only fair if the senior captains speak first, since Jin took initiative before Jungkook was asked.

 

“I agree with Jin,” Jaebum admits, leaning back and crossing his hands over his body. “I really don’t think we should waste extra money on the mode of transportation. They’ll get to Eslyn one way or the other, and the forest route is faster.” Jungkook agrees, too. While he’s never had to deal with money problems himself, he knows that Jaebum has been put into financial tight spots before, and is more inclined to spend conservatively.

 

Suga hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t say anything in response, just turns his head to Namjoon. “Namjoon, what about you?”

 

Jungkook knows what Namjoon’s answer is already. “I’m for the ship option. Preparation is the priority in this mission, and they will need time to research and rehearse before arriving. They’d still have to do that on the forest mission, which would mean either staying here longer before leaving to rehearse or rehearse while traveling but risk the chance of poor uptake.”

 

“Ever the analytical one,” Jin teases; Namjoon dips his head bashfully, though he’s grinning. “That is a good point, though.” Loathe as he is to admit it, Jungkook can’t find anything to disagree with, either.  _ It looks like we’ll probably end up taking the expensive route... _

 

“All of you have provided good points,” Suga adds, and for another moment Jungkook wonders if he’s  _ actually _ going to get passed over for opinions, but then Suga has his eyes turned to Jungkook and his expression asks in place of words.

 

“Well…” Jungkook glances around him. “I really don’t feel that it’s necessary to spend extra money on this trip. Like Jaebum said, we’ll get there one way or another. I’m fine with the risks of the forest route.”

 

Suga closes his eyes in response. His vote will break the tie, but Jungkook is already fairly certain of what it will be. He supposes that it can’t be helped, when Suga opens his eyes and states in a clear voice, “I’m in favor of the ship option. I don’t think any expense should be spared for this mission.” 

 

Jungkook doesn’t know if Suga’s actually trying to be subtle, but he doesn’t miss how Suga’s gaze lingers on him a moment longer than the rest. Jungkook wants to glare, because he isn’t a  _ child _ and he doesn’t need to be  _ pampered  _ like one, but also,  _ he isn’t a child, _ so he settles for exhaling quietly in irritation.

 

“That puts the vote at three to four in favor of the ship. Do we accept this vote?” Namjoon spreads his hands out on the table in front of him, taking account of each captain’s nod (Jungkook takes great pride in the fact that, even in times of disagreement, his troop will always accept a fair vote without argument).

 

“If funds are really that great of a concern, I’m willing to dip into my personal accounts to pay,” Suga says after Namjoon confirms agreement.

 

Jungkook blinks in surprise, but he still feels a bit guilty.  _ Suga wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t for me, _ he sighs inwardly.  _ But still, this is an important mission; perhaps he’s right. No expense should be spared to make sure we succeed.  _

 

“Are you sure that’s alright?” Jackson asks; the expression on his face is incredulous. Jungkook is reminded of how rarely Suga ever brings his own funds into the picture, even if he does have more than enough for himself.

 

“Yes, I’m perfectly able and willing to provide for this mission.” Suga’s tone is firm, closing the matter once and for all. 

 

“Since that matter has been decided, we need to talk about acquiring travel documents,” Namjoon begins, shuffling through more papers. “It’s possible to obtain them from the river port security, but we’d have to be very discreet about it…”

 

As the conversation turns to the matter of documentation, Jungkook finds himself spacing out.  _ It’s happening,  _ he thinks, excitedly.  _ We’re going to Eslyn. I’m going to see Jimin again. _

 

There’s a nagging worry in his head, because  _ what if he isn’t there, though? What if I’m just jumping to conclusions? Maybe I’m just too excited to see him again. _

 

_ Oh. _

 

Jungkook feels his ears burn.  _ I’m…excited to see him again.  _ There’s a tiny, almost unnoticeable fluttering in his stomach that makes an appearance when Jungkook thinks of Jimin’s face.  _ He’ll probably be annoyed if I see him -- or maybe not. He didn’t seem to hate me when we last spoke. What if he  _ wants _ to see me? _

 

There are a hundred things Jungkook wants to ask Jimin -- but then, at the same time, he has no idea what to say.  _ Of course, I’d...probably have to ask about the artifact, _ Jungkook admits to himself begrudgingly.  _ But there are so many other things we could talk about...right?  _

 

Come to think of it, though, Jungkook knows almost  _ nothing _ about Jimin, save for his name and the fact that he’s not married. 

 

_ But why does it even matter? _ he wonders, slowly growing frustrated.  _ I’ve barely done  _ anything _ with him. And -- and we’re enemies, even if we  _ have _ periodically spared each other’s lives _ Jungkook frowns.  _ So...why am I excited?  _

 

“Jungkook!” Jackson nudges Jungkook’s arm, snapping him out of his thoughts.

 

“Er -- sorry.” Jungkook blinks rapidly, surprised. 

 

“Are you alright, Jungkook? You didn’t respond the first couple of times we called your name,” Namjoon asks, brows creased in worry.

 

_ They were calling my name? _ Jungkook desperately tries to force back the blush in his cheeks. “Yes, I’m -- I’m fine. Just thinking. What did you need?”

 

Namjoon doesn’t seem completely satisfied with his response, but for the sake of the meeting -- which Jungkook realizes he was spacing out during (he can’t believe himself) -- he continues. “We’re going to begin the process of acquiring your travel documents first. Yugyeom and Jackson have other business to attend to today, so you and I will go to the river authorities after this meeting.”

 

“Oh. That’s fine.” Jungkook can’t think of anything else to reply with. 

 

“You’ll need to stow away your armor,” Jaebum adds. “You won’t be bringing that with you to Eslyn, so you need to start getting used to not wearing it.”

 

“Ugh, you’re right,” Yugyeom groans, running his hand over his face. “It’s going to feel so  _ strange. _ ”

 

“Then you should stop wearing it now,” Jaebum replies, a small smile playing on his face.

 

“This also means you’ll have to isolate yourself from us,” Suga says quietly. Jungkook’s eyes snap over to him; his lips are pressed tightly together.

 

“That’s right,” Jackson murmurs. “We have to get used to being on our own.” 

 

_ He’s right, _ Jungkook realizes, saddened by the thought. His eyes meet Suga’s from across the table, and only then does he begin to understand how much he’s going to  _ miss _ his friends, his brothers. Suga seems to see it in his eyes, and gives him a small smile, probably to reassure Jungkook, though it ends up making Jungkook feel even sadder.

 

“We can arrange to have your rooms moved together at the inn until you leave,” Jaebum offers. “It’ll give you maximum privacy for planning, and time to adjust to being around each other so much.”

 

“At least we’ll have each other,” Yugyeom jokes, though his voice is just the slightest bit strained -- it won’t be the same without all seven of them together.

 

“Namjoon.” Suga clears his throat. “Why don’t you and Jungkook go to the river authorities now? We need to begin as soon as possible. The rest of us will close up this meeting and inform you of what happens when you return.”

 

For the third time this meeting, Jungkook feels a little brushed off.  _ Is there something they don’t want me to hear? _ he wonders bitterly, but he doesn’t voice his complaints. Instead, he waits for Namjoon to respond.

 

“Of course,” Namjoon says, rising from his seat and handing his papers over to Jaebum. “These contain any other information we might need. Jungkook, let’s go.” He beckons to Jungkook, already heading towards the door.

 

Jungkook nods, giving one last glance to Suga before following after Namjoon. He’s still kind of miffed about being sent off.

 

The hallways of headquarters are less crowded than earlier; Jungkook closes the heavy wooden doors behind him while Namjoon waits patiently to the side. They walk for a while in silence, until Namjoon speaks up.

 

“You’re not happy about being sent off, are you?” Namjoon inquires, quietly, as they round a corner.

 

Jungkook huffs, but he nods. No point in hiding it from Namjoon, who knows Jungkook’s relationship with Suga almost as well as his own. “I don’t understand why he didn’t want me there. I’m as much a captain as anyone else in there,” he mutters.

 

“Ah. Well, I’ll let you in on a secret. Suga’s very upset over sending you away to Eslyn; he’s scared for you. He sees you as his family.” Namjoon looks over at Jungkook as they walk; Jungkook bows his head in shame.

 

_ Of course he would be worried, _ Jungkook thinks.  _ I’m just being a brat. _

 

“You know how Suga gets. When he doesn’t want to deal with his emotions, he tries to separate himself from whatever is upsetting him; namely, you, in this situation, though that’s not to say  _ you _ are the problem. I’m sure he didn’t mean to upset you,” Namjoon tries to console Jungkook.

 

“He wants to remain objectively functional. I understand,” Jungkook interrupts, shaking his head. “I should have been thinking about him, not myself.”

 

“You’re young. It’s fine,” Namjoon replies teasingly, ruffling his hand in Jungkook’s hair and laughing at his weak protest. “Go back to the inn and shed your armor. From here on out, you need to start blending in as a civilian.”

 

“That means I won’t be coming here anymore,” Jungkook remarks. “I assume you and the others will bring information to Jackson, Yugyeom, and me while we’re in our room at the inn.”

 

He’s rewarded with a nod. “Get going. We don’t have much time before the authorities close tonight,” Namjoon informs Jungkook as they enter the stables.

 

“We won’t have nearly enough time to complete the paperwork tonight, then,” Jungkook scoffs, grabbing the reins of his horse. “Isn’t it a process done over the course of a few days?”

 

“Typically, yes, but we need to start now. Above all else, we can get your name onto a waiting list to be processed. Oh, and also, remember we’re going to be completely remaking your entire life. We’ll go over your new persona more while we wait.”

 

“Sounds good. Where should I meet you, since I’ve effectively been banned from coming here?” Jungkook laughs, mounting his horse. 

 

“The southern bridge will do,” Namjoon laughs in return. “Leave your horse behind. It makes you too conspicuous.”

 

Jungkook nods, before snapping the reins and heading back to the inn.

 

Once he’s returned to his room, he begins to remove his armor piece by piece. “It’s going to be so strange not wearing this all the time,” Jungkook mutters to himself, storing away his armor in the chest. It’s his most recent gift from his parents, and he’s loathe to separate from it. 

 

Somehow, he’s able to tear himself away from his prized armor, hurrying to meet Namjoon at the southern bridge, clad in only civilian clothing -- he feels almost  _ naked. _ To compensate, he’s layered two tunics over each other and his sturdy leather boots; at least with them on he feels slightly more secure.

 

“Ah, Jungkookie. You should go without your armor more often, you know. You can see your lovely frame,” Namjoon teases lightly, as Jungkook jogs up to his side. Namjoon has changed from his typical Trine robes to a less noticeable, tan and white ensemble.

 

“Don’t make fun,” Jungkook complains, tugging at the long sleeves of his undertunic. “I feel vulnerable.”

 

“Good. You seem more normal.”

 

“ _ Namjoon. _ ”

 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

 

Together they walk towards the river docks, near which lie the river port authorities. Namjoon informs Jungkook about the various documents he’ll need, his new identity -- “You’re still Jungkook,” Namjoon reminds him, “but we’ve changed your family name to Kim” -- and his fabricated past.

 

“I’m going to be playing the role of your older brother and handling the papers for you, since we’re going to list you as underage,” Namjoon adds once he’s finished. “I’m sending you off to Eslyn as part of a scholarly journey, so at least act the part for me, yes?”

 

“I can’t believe you’re relegating me to nineteen again,” Jungkook groans. 

 

“Younger is better, Jungkook; younger is better,” Namjoon chuckles, swatting Jungkook’s arm playfully. “Ah, to experience youth again -- freedom, young love, adventure, but most of all the unknown.”

 

“Namjoon, you’re twenty-four, you’re not some withered old husk yet,” Jungkook rebukes; from there on the two of them walk in silence to the docks.

 

The man running the river authority eyes them suspiciously when Namjoon requests Jungkook’s name be put down for foreign travel applications, passing him faked documents that share equally faked information about Jungkook’s life --  _ when did he even have time to collect these things or even formulate my identity?  _ Jungkook wonders bemusedly, watching the exchange of papers.

 

“From Mirn, are you?” he asks, voice heavy with an Irisian accent; he appears middle aged, with a dark tan and short, cropped hair. “What part?”

 

“The east, sir,” Namjoon replies politely. “We’re from near the border.” Jungkook thinks he hides his heavy Mirnian accent very well, considering from how far  _ west _ he really comes from. 

 

“Huh. Defecting, hm? Not liking the Mirnian side so much?”

 

Jungkook wants to bristle at the remark, but forces down his temper, because firstly, he’d blow their cover, and secondly, from what he’s seen, the Mirnian side hasn’t done a great job at winning over the captured Irisians, so he isn’t one to talk.

 

Namjoon, ever the diplomat, smooths things over easily. “Actually, this is a scholarly exploit,” he admits, and his voice is so  _ in character _ , just the right mix of correctionary and sheepish, that Jungkook reminds himself again of how dangerous Namjoon has the potential to be, how  _ easily _ he can slip into a designated role (even if he can barely cut an onion right in the troop kitchen).

 

“Scholarly? I see you’ve got the robes of a mage, but I don’t see any on him,” the Irisian says, glancing from the paperwork to Jungkook and then back. Jungkook gives Namjoon the smallest glance out of the corner of his eye, but Namjoon calms his worries with a tiny smile.

 

“Oh, not for me,” Namjoon chuckles. “Just him this time around. He’s a novice, you see, and I’m a firm believer of studying all kinds of magic from all countries -- even if this is a time of war, there’s no excuse to halt his studies.”

 

“Mm.” The Irisian man doesn’t comment further for a while, just shuffles through the papers and mutters things to himself now and again. Namjoon just hums a little tune -- though it’s slightly off key; Jungkook resists the urge to correct him -- while he waits, and Jungkook remains stone still. He hopes his silence will be taken for anticipation.

 

“Going to Eslyn, then?” the man finally asks.

 

“Yes, that’s the plan,” Namjoon replies. “Lots to see there, and lots of people to meet, too.”

 

“Hm. Well, your paperwork will be processed over the next two days, so use that time to prepare yourself for the journey,” the Irisian states. He stamps some of the papers with red ink, before returning those ones to Namjoon.

 

“Thank you, sir.” Namjoon gives a small bow of his head, and Jungkook mimics him just a heartbeat later. “We’ll return in two days’ time.”

 

“Of course.” Jungkook is already turning away before the Irisian calls out to him. 

 

“Yes, sir?” Jungkook swivels back on his heel to face the man, carefully molding his face into one of slight bewilderment. 

 

“Since you’re there to mingle, I’d suggest hunting around for a partner in Eslyn,” the man says with a wink. Jungkook finds himself blushing, something which causes the man to laugh.

 

“I -- I’m sorry, sir, I don’t think I understand,” Jungkook stutters -- it’s not him pretending this time, though. He has no idea what this stranger is getting at.

 

The Irisian man chortles, throwing his head back a bit and laughing. “Oh, so young and innocent. If you’re to get yourself an Irisian partner, don’t find one here in Kysh. They’re so much more interesting on the other side.”

 

Jungkook’s face is burning; beside him, Namjoon tries to hide a smile behind his fist. “He’ll keep it in mind, sir. Thank you for your help...and your advice.”

 

After they hurry away from the docks, Namjoon finally breathes out a sigh. “More interesting over there, huh? Not like we would know. We’ve never met Irisian civilians from Eslyn.”

 

_ Well,  _ I _ have, _ Jungkook wants to say, reminded of Jimin,  _ and I’m certainly inclined to agree -- they  _ are _ more interesting. _ Immediately, though, he feels guilty; how can he think of Jimin -- an  _ enemy _ \-- with such interest, while a true ally and family member stands right beside him? Jungkook doesn’t understand.

 

Instantly, Namjoon picks up on his brooding -- of course he does. “Jungkook, are you really alright? You’ve been rather quiet lately. It’s not like you to stay completely silent, and it’s definitely not like you to space out during meetings.”

 

Jungkook wants to bite his lip and pretend he didn’t hear, but he’d have to be deaf to have missed Namjoon’s worried tone. He debates with himself over whether he should tell Namjoon he’s fine or if he should enlist his advice.

 

_ To hell with it, _ Jungkook thinks at last.  _ He won’t buy “I’m fine” this time. _

 

“Honestly, I’m confused,” Jungkook admits, slowing his pace; Namjoon matches him, fixing Jungkook with a look of pure concern.

 

“Confused? Was there something about the meeting you didn’t understand? Or the plan? Do you need me to explain it better?” Jungkook smiles at Namjoon’s guesses, though none of them are accurate.

 

“No, it’s...nothing like that. I just…” He’s not sure how to word his sort-of confession.  _ How do I tell him what I feel without giving us away? _

 

“You just what, Jungkook?” Namjoon’s voice isn’t admonishing or annoyed; it’s just troubled. 

 

“I…”  _ I’m stalling, that’s what, _ Jungkook thinks dryly, but he has to reply at some point, so finally he just spills what he’s come up with. “I’m starting to become a little curious about the Irisians. Well, maybe  _ interested _ is a better word. I’m getting too interested in them.”

 

“Interested how?” Namjoon prys after a moment’s hesitation, chewing on the inside of his lip. Jungkook can tell that he’s disturbed by Jungkook’s line of thought already.

 

“I don’t know. I just want to know more about them. We fight all the time, but we don’t really  _ know _ each other -- cultures, practices, way of living.” It’s clear as day (to himself) the moment he says it -- he’s secretly voicing his own thoughts about Jimin as much as Mirnians and Irisians as a whole.

 

“Oh, Jungkook,” Namjoon sighs. “You’re too good for your  _ own _ good. This is war; we don’t have the luxury to analyze our enemies like normal people. You’ll lose your edge in a fight if you let yourself get caught up in trying to understand your enemy beyond how he swings his sword.”

 

_ But  _ why _ do we fight?  _ Jungkook would  _ love _ to protest.  _ We were only ever told to fight for what’s rightfully ours -- and I’m starting to doubt that’s even true anymore. _ How can Irisian land be Mirn’s? It was peacefully agreed upon who received what lands  _ eons _ ago, so what is the point in fighting over it now?

 

“I still wish we could talk. I don’t even know the purpose of all the fighting sometimes, Namjoon,” Jungkook mutters, staring at his feet and watching his steps along the cobbled road.

 

Namjoon huffs -- whether in exasperation or sympathy, Jungkook can’t tell. “We fight because we are loyal to our country and our duty to it comes before our own desires. We’re soldiers. It’s what we do.”

 

_ Some soldier I am, then. _ Jungkook doesn’t talk any more after that, just keeps his head low and eyes trained on the ground, feeling guilty and miserable and lonely even though Namjoon’s just an arm’s length away.

 

Jungkook doesn’t typically “miss” things; he’s come to accept that he can’t have everything he wants at once. But now he finds himself missing his home, his blood family, his freedom -- and most of all the only person in this world who understands how he feels.

 

\--

 

“Papa!” 

 

Soonyoung and Mingyu have always been the screamers of Hoseok and Taehyung’s family, and they don’t disappoint Jimin now, running out of their home with arms wide open, stumbling over uneven cobblestones to their fathers’ arms.

 

“My boys!” Hoseok cries, dropping everything he’s carrying to kneel down and throw open his arms for Soonyoung and Mingyu to crash into (Jimin is surprised that Hoseok doesn’t fall over backwards).

 

The two boys are only the beginning of the ten child procession, and Jimin watches from a distance as the other eight ( _ eight;  _ He doesn’t know how Hoseok and Taehyung do it) boys come yelling and crying and waving into the street. 

 

He can hear snippets of the things the boys scream: “thank the  _ gods _ you’re home!” (probably Seungcheol) and “we missed you so, so much, please don’t  _ ever _ leave again” (definitely Jun) and a rather amusing “I’m so sorry, Hansol set the table on fire so we have to buy a new one” (that’s Josh, and he’s kind of crying).

 

It makes Jimin’s heart swell to see the reunion. Every time Hoseok and Taehyung return home, the world seems three shades brighter (it’s not the reflection of the sunlight off the white stone houses) and Jimin feels smothered in happiness and affection.

 

This time, however, it’s a little more awkward. Jimin glances down to the two boys in front of him: Seungkwan and Seokmin shuffle from foot to foot, staring longingly at the family so happily reunited. Jimin bites his lip; he understands their discomfort.  _ It’s more than likely that they’ve only recently lost their own families; this must cut deep. _

 

Aside from that sensitive fact, Jimin is also reminded that neither boy has a  _ home,  _ currently. It was never decided whether they would find a home amongst the unit members or simply return to the streets.

 

Watching the boys watch the family makes Jimin’s heart clench; he places his hands gently on their shoulders, drawing their attention for a moment. 

 

“Where will  _ we _ go now?” Seungkwan asks quietly, eyes meeting Jimin’s for a moment, before falling to the ground. 

 

Jimin honestly doesn’t have an answer. He chews on his cheek, trying to think of something, but Seokmin answers Seungkwan for him.

 

“Well, wherever we go, at least we’ll have each other, right?” Seokmin takes Seungkwan’s hand in his, squeezing gently. Seungkwan nods, but he’s still looking at his feet (which are barely covered by the most worn pair of shoes Jimin has ever seen in his life).

 

The sadness in the air is palpable, between two young boys who shouldn’t know heartache and a man who wishes he knew how to cure it.

 

“Jimin,” Jinyoung’s voice calls. Jimin turns his head towards the sound and sees Jinyoung waving him over. 

 

He has a short debate with himself over whether or not he should leave the boys, but the sad feeling still hangs over their tiny bodies, and Jimin will be damned if he doesn’t try to do something about it,  _ right now _ . So he grasps the boys by the wrists and tugs them with him towards Jinyoung. “Let’s go. I’m going to find you a place to stay.”

 

Neither boy protests, but Jinyoung almost does when Jimin is standing face to face with him. “Jimin…” he trails off, glancing at the boys. “Can we talk privately?”

 

“Yes, we can, but not before these boys get a home,” Jimin says forcefully. A week ago, he would have never thought himself to be such a  _ sap _ for children; he can remember being outrageously annoyed by Seungkwan’s petulant pout and behavior, but here he is, putting them before his duty (at least, that’s what Jimin assumes Jinyoung had wanted to talk about; he didn’t miss the way Jinyoung hid the worn, leather-bound tome beneath his cloak).

 

“I -- alright,” Jinyoung replies, obviously surprised in his own right; his eyebrows are raised up beneath his bangs. “What do you suggest we do?”

 

If Jimin had taken more time to think it over, he would have expected the answer that comes out of his mouth (and maybe thought against it), but instead, he’d rushed over in a moment of passion and now blurts out, “Have them live with me.”

 

He isn’t sure who’s more shocked: Jinyoung, the boys, or himself. The four of them stand there for several moments, just gaping at each other (mostly Jinyoung gaping at Jimin). 

 

_ I can’t believe I just said that, _ Jimin thinks, blankly.  _ Did I...seriously just volunteer myself to be a babysitter? _

 

It is, however, instantly clear who’s the most excited about the arrangement. As soon as their wits have returned, Seungkwan and Seokmin are whirling to face Jimin, tugging on his arms and pleading with words and faces.

 

“Do you really mean that, Jiminnie?” Seokmin gasps. “Can we really live with you?”

 

“Uh,” is all Jimin says, trying to recover his own mind from its decision. “I...yes. I mean, if Jinyoung says so. And if you really want to.” He feels incredibly stiff, like he’s been paralyzed by his own stupidity, but looking at the excitement and the eagerness on the boy’s faces melts the ice holding him in place.

 

“Yes! We want to! We want to live with you!” Seungkwan turns his expectant little face on Jinyoung, who noticeably staggers backwards (Jimin sympathizes; he’s feeling the effects of pleading children eyes, too). “Please, Jinyoungie? Please? We’ll be good, we promise!”

 

“We won’t get in the way of Jiminnie’s work!” Seokmin adds. Jimin feels his chest growing warm with affection;  _ why did I think this was a bad idea?  _ Really, there isn’t a downside, not that Jimin can see.

 

“Er,” Jinyoung says. “I...don’t see why not...so long as you listen to everything he tells you to do. Especially if it has to do with our...work, yes?” Jimin notices how he shifts his arm to hide the tome better under his cloak, but there’s no need. The boys are already jumping around excitedly, back and forth between Jinyoung and Jimin.

 

“We have a home!” Seokmin shouts, clapping his hands.

 

“We’ll be good, Jiminnie!” Seungkwan promises, grabbing Jimin’s hand and shaking it. Then he stops moving, his face going slack, mouth widened in an “o”. 

 

“What’s wrong, Seungkwan?” Jimin gasps, kneeling down to face Seungkwan directly; worry clouds his mind.  _ Did I do something wrong? Is this not going to work? _ Jimin hopes he’s wrong; he just wants these boys to be happy and safe in a home that cares about them.

 

Seungkwan doesn’t answer right away, just stands there with eyes opened wide and mouth gaping. Suddenly, he pulls away from Jimin and runs off to Seokmin. “Seokmin!” he says. “Come here! I need to ask you something.”

 

The two boys draw in close; Seungkwan whispers something in Seokmin’s ear. Jimin could just turn on his tracking magic for better hearing to listen in, but he feels no need this time. They’re just children, he supposes; it would be rude to butt in.

 

Instead, he rises and stands next to Jinyoung, staring over at the boys as they conspire. Jinyoung has a positively baffled look on his face. 

 

“What in the name of..?” he mutters, but Jimin shushes him with a nudge.

 

“Shh. They’re boys. Let them have their fun,” Jimin whispers. He’s curious himself about what they’re discussing, but he can wait to find out.

 

The two men wait bemusedly, until Seokmin gives Seungkwan a firm nod and steps forward, chest puffed out and brow furrowed (it’s adorable and hilarious; Jimin can’t believe he’s going to have this with him everyday). “Jiminnie! We have a very important question!” Seokmin exclaims, like it’s something official.

 

Jimin suppresses the chuckle in his throat. “Of course,” he replies, smiling. “Ask away.”

 

Seungkwan is fiddling with his fingers; Seokmin gives him a glance and grabs his hand, pulling forward so they stand beside each other. “Do I say it?” Seokmin whispers to Seungkwan, audible to Jimin even without magic. “Or do you say it?”

 

“You say it,” Seungkwan whispers back. 

 

“Okay,” Seokmin says, before turning back to Jimin. He squeezes his eyes shut (which Jimin also finds adorable and hilarious) before nearly shouting, “Jiminnie, will you be our new papa?”

 

_ That _ is not what Jimin was expecting; the shout draws attention from other people surrounding them, including Hoseok and Taehyung, who turn their heads to gawk at Jimin.

 

To be fair, Jimin is gawking himself. He stares down hard at the two little boys, who are avoiding his gaze; in embarrassment or shame or fear, he isn’t sure. Nor is he sure of how to answer.

 

_ A  _ father? _ Did they just ask me to be their  _ father? Jimin wants to sit down somewhere, feeling lightheaded. He supposes that, given their living situation, the boys might want to call him family, but a  _ father? _

 

 _I’m barely twenty-two,_ he thinks. _How could I be a_ father? It’s ironic, how useless this simple question, asked by a _child,_ has rendered him -- Park Jimin, unit captain, head scout and soldier, stumped into dumb silence by a child.

 

Jimin’s eyes wander over to where Taehyung and Hoseok are giving him the most disbelieving looks. Something in his mind clicks as he looks at Taehyung.

 

_ Tae’s twenty-two, too, _ he reasons (or attempts to reason).  _ And  _ he _ has ten kids. Who says you can’t have two? _

 

“I…” Jimin thinks he might actually fall over. He lowers his gaze to the boys, who have turned hopeful faces on him -- 

 

\-- and apparently, Park Jimin is the biggest sap for children on the planet, because he feels his heart crumble into a million pieces. “Of...course. I’ll be your papa.”

 

From beside him, Jinyoung makes a muffled half-snort, half-gasp sound, covering his mouth with his free hand and turning away to hide his laughing. Taehyung makes an excited squealing sound that’s about two pitches too high for his voice, and Hoseok groans audibly.

 

But really, the only thing that matters for Jimin is the way that the boys’ faces light up and smiles split across their faces. He feels his own mouth widening into a smile, too.

 

“Thank you!” the boys cry out, and then they’re hugging Jimin, barreling into him and throwing him seriously off balance; they stagger backwards together, Jimin trying to regain balance while two children cling to his legs.

 

“Well,  _ Papa  _ Jimin, I’ll come back to talk with you later about the mission,” Jinyoung snickers, patting Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin frowns at the jab.

 

“Hey, don’t mock me. I’m a  _ father _ now. Where and when do you want me to meet you?”

 

“I’ll come by your house, after you get your boys settled in.” Jinyoung clears his throat loudly, smirking. “Oh, I’m sorry -- I meant your sons.”

 

“Oh gods.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “You aren’t ever going to let me live this down, are you?”

 

“No. Not now, not ever. You’re going to be on your deathbed and my last words to you will be about how you suddenly just decided to become a parent one day.” Jinyoung laughs, backing away. “In the meantime I’m going to get ready for the trip to the capital. Some things -- ” he pats his chest where the book is “ -- can’t wait.”

 

“Ah. I’ll see you later, then,” Jimin replies, his happy mood darkening a bit. He’d been so excited (and overwhelmed) about the boys that he’d nearly forgotten the most important task at hand. 

 

With a sigh, he places his hands gently on Seungkwan and Seokmin’s heads. “Let’s go talk to Hobi and Tae, alright? I need to get my house ready for you guys to live in, and they have lots of children for you guys to play with.”

 

Seokmin grins up at Jimin. “They told us lots about their kids! Can we play with them  _ now? _ ”

 

“Well, let’s go ask Hobi and Tae,” Jimin says through a smile, patting their heads. “Come on.”

 

Jimin ushers the boys -- his boys! -- over to where Hoseok and Taehyung are still celebrating reunion. Hoseok is wearing a flower crown of azaleas, flax, and heather and so is Taehyung -- gifts from the children; if Jimin had to guess, he’d say Jeonghan supervised their making.

 

“Hobi!” he calls, waving his hands. “Can I ask you a favor?”

 

Hoseok turns towards Jimin, face flat. “If it’s to watch your kids, I’m going to remind you that they’re now  _ your  _ responsibility, not everyone’s.”

 

At Hoseok’s sharp tone, Jimin blanches; who does Hoseok think he is? He isn’t going to shove Seungkwan and Seokmin off on someone else. It’s  _ his _ job to take care of them, and he’s going to do the best damn job anyone’s ever seen. “I understand that; I just wanted to ask if you would let yours play with them while I reorganize my house.”

 

“Oh, Hobi, it’s fine. Seungkwan and Seokmin are more than welcome to come play,” Taehyung laughs, beckoning the boys over. “Come here, I’ll introduce you.” Jimin watches as Seungkwan and Seokmin follow, almost shy looking, and they’re immediately attacked by Soonyoung, who screams, “I’m your new friend!” Jimin can’t help but laugh at the surprised expression on Seokmin’s face and the mildly traumatized look on Seungkwan’s (his hand rests over his heart in a gesture of shock).

 

“Jimin.” Hoseok’s voice draws Jimin’s attention; the older man is staring at Jimin, lips pursed and arms folded. “You do realize the weight of what you’re taking on, right?”

 

“Yes. Well, mostly. I watch you and Tae a lot, when you’re with your family. I’ve learned a little,” Jimin insists. He isn’t  _ helpless, _ even if having family is kind of new to him (he had parents and a brother once, too).

 

“Jimin, it’s more than just that. Having a family is  _ hard. _ You don’t just take in two boys and leave them to their own devices, you know. They need to be taken care of, even if they’ve proven that they can fend for themselves. They’re only babies.”

 

Much as he hates to admit it, Jimin knows Hoseok is right. He doesn’t know how to raise children (besides feeding and clothing them, obviously). 

 

“I still want to try,” Jimin replies, quietly. “I might need your advice along the way, but I  _ want _ to give these boys a home they can be happy and -- and  _ loved _ in. I’m not a love or child expert, but you can bet I’ll try my damned best to love these boys like my family.”

 

Hoseok is silent for a few long, heavy moments. In the background, Jimin can hear Taehyung introducing Seungkwan and Seokmin, and the other children excitedly asking questions of all kinds, but Jimin can only focus on how Hoseok seems to be contemplating his worth.

 

Finally, Hoseok sighs. “Of course we’ll give you the help you need. I just...don’t want you to end up disappointed. You or the -- you or  _ your  _ boys.” He puts a very pointed emphasis on the word “your.” Jimin nods. “And you also have to remember that we’re still at war. Taetae and I had our family before things went to hell. Goddess knows how Seungkwan and Seokmin ended up alone in this world, but when you’re called to fight, you’ll have to leave them behind again.”

 

“I know that,” Jimin mutters, hanging his head. “And with this business with the tome, I think that I’ll have to leave pretty soon, too.”

 

Hoseok comes forward to pat Jimin’s shoulder. “Come on, then. I’ll help you get your house fixed up while Tae watches the kids. We’d best start now, so you can spend as much time with the boys as you can.”

 

“Yeah. Let’s go.” Mood slightly lifted, Jimin crosses the street to his own home (thank the  _ gods _ he lives near Hoseok and Taehyung. If he  _ really _ needs their help, at least they’re right across the road).

 

Time seems to speed by as Jimin returns to his home and begins to move things around; luckily for him and Hoseok, their neighbor Hyungwon is always kind enough to watch their homes and clean them occasionally while they’re on campaign (he also checks in now and again on Hoseok’s and Taehyung’s boys; Jimin will have to figure out where Seungkwan and Seokmin will go while he’s gone). 

 

The house is slightly larger than average, with two floor levels and its own stone oven. Jimin owns little furniture, but he has a spare room, and a spare bed for the boys to share -- he doesn’t really have the money to buy another one. 

 

A couple of hours later, Jimin and Hoseok are done moving chests and cleaning the floors; the spare room is sparsely decorated, with only a small chest in the corner for clothes and a small plant by the window, but Jimin figures the boys will decorate it themselves over time (the thought of Seungkwan and Seokmin really  _ staying _ with him makes Jimin grin giddily to himself, which Hoseok wastes no time teasing him about).

 

Jimin, Seungkwan, and Seokmin join Hoseok and Taehyung’s family for dinner; Jimin hadn’t been able to run by the market for food in time. It’s all well and good, he supposes, watching his boys --  _ his boys _ \-- talk animatedly with the others over the meal.  _ This is probably the happiest dinner they’ve had for a very long time. _

 

Hoseok is kind enough to lend Seungkwan and Seokmin some old clothes and shoes that their boys don’t fit anymore; they’re a little worn, but they’re better than Seungkwan or Seokmin’s current attire by a long shot. 

 

Watching the boys enter their new home is almost as heart-warming for Jimin as it must be for them. Seungkwan and Seokmin are so excited to have a bed -- they jump up and down on it, not seeming to care that it’s a straw mattress or that they’re going to be sharing it. 

 

“You guys need to sleep now,” he laughs; the boys just squeal and run around, instigating a miniature game of tag -- in which Jimin has to catch them and practically throw them onto the bed, where they finally stay, laughing and smiling. “Tomorrow, we can go to the market and buy some food; you can both pick out something you like,” Jimin says, pulling the blankets over the boys.

 

“Jiminnie -- I mean, papa,” Seungkwan corrects himself (the words send a warm feeling down Jimin’s spine), “are you going to give us a good-night kiss?”

 

“Oh! And a story!” Seokmin says, fisting his tiny hands in the blankets and tugging them under his chin, looking up expectantly at Jimin.

 

Jimin smiles; he remembers when his own parents would tuck him in and tell him stories as a little boy, and how sometimes the birds would come by his window and whisper their own tales to him until he drifted off to sleep. “Of course,” he replies, sitting down on the side of the bed. “What kind of story do you want to hear?”

 

“One about magic!” Seungkwan exclaims.

 

“And animals!” Seokmin adds. The boys snuggle closer together, peering up at Jimin from the pillows.

 

“Magic and animals; alright, then,” Jimin chuckles. He’s running through stories he knows in his head from childhood, when there’s the sound of the front door opening.

 

“Jimin? Are you home?” It’s Jinyoung calling out, and he sounds strained. Jimin presses his lips together in worry.  _ What could possibly be wrong this time? _

 

“I’m upstairs, I’ll be down in a moment,” he calls back, before turning to the boys. “I’ll be right back,” he promises. 

 

“Oh, it’s okay, Jiminnie -- er, papa,” Seokmin says with a yawn; Seungkwan rubs his eyes in a similar display of exhaustion. “We don’t want to bother your work. Tomorrow will you tell us the story?”

 

Jimin is saddened by the boy’s easy acceptance of his absence; it’s as if he’s used to not being doted on before bed (Jimin can clearly remember throwing fits if his parents left him to bed without cuddles and a story and kisses). “Are you sure? I can tell Jinyoung to wait.” Both boys nod, eyes closing. “I’m going to have to make it up with a story of epic proportions tomorrow, then.”

 

He hesitates for a moment; he can still give them goodnight kisses, but is it really so easy as a kiss to the forehead? He’s seen Hoseok and Taehyung do it plenty of times, remembers it from when he was a little boy, but it always seemed so special to him; it was always important, like he couldn’t sleep right until he got a kiss (Jimin will be honest and admit that his parents kissed him goodnight well into his teen years, almost up until he moved out and got a job on his own; he loved being loved by them). 

 

_ Is there some kind of magic that goes into it? _ Jimin wonders, before scoffing inwardly.  _ Yeah, like there’s some kind of special  _ parent _ magic. _ Still, he can’t help but feel foolishly insecure as he leans over the boys and presses his lips to their foreheads, Seungkwan first and then Seokmin.

 

To his immense relief, they giggle and snuggle further under the blankets, whispering little “Goodnight”s to him and curling into each other.

 

“Goodnight,” Jimin echoes, taking the candle from the windowsill and carrying it with him out of the room. He gives the boys one last look -- he can hear their hushed whispers from the door -- with a smile, before closing the door and sighing, the smile leaving his face as his mind returns to the true task at hand. “I’m coming down, Jinyoung.”

 

Even before Jimin arrives downstairs, he can hear Jinyoung’s feet pacing back and forth across the floor. He comes to a rather startling scene: one of the seats at his table has been pushed far away from the rest. The tome of pestilent magic rests open on the tabletop, but over it lies a long, official-looking document with a heavy red seal stamped on the end. And Jinyoung looks a mess; he’s no longer wearing his mage robes over his simple white tunic, but his arms are folded tightly, hands practically clawing at the tunic’s long sleeves. 

 

“What’s happened?” Jimin is instantly on alert. He sets the candle down on the table and pulls out a chair. Jinyoung continues his pacing, though, eyes focused on something not physically there.“Jinyoung, sit down so you can tell me what’s wrong.”

 

It’s a few heartbeats before Jinyoung actually complies, landing heavily in the chair pulled away from the table and sighing frustratedly. Jimin fixes him with a look. “Scoot closer; you’re all the way over there,” he huffs. 

 

Jinyoung drags his chair across the dirt floor towards Jimin, but doesn’t speak right away. Instead, his eyes trail over to the document on the table. 

 

“Jinyoung, is this about the tome?” Jimin is getting more and more worried by the second. Things were already bad with the discovery of the tome’s magic; he can’t think of anything else that could possibly make them worse.

 

Evidently, they can get  _ much _ worse. Jinyoung looks like he’s about ready to collapse. “It’s not the tome,” he groans. “But it has to do with the queen.”

 

“Queen Chaelin?” The situation must be dire, then, Jimin assumes; rarely do things go wrong around  _ her. _ Their queen is one of the most well-educated, well-equipped, and well-protected people in this country or the next.

 

“Well, not her specifically.” Jinyoung, in a very uncharacteristic gesture of nervousness, glances around the room and at the windows, as if searching for eavesdroppers. He lowers his voice when he finally says, “I haven’t told anyone this yet -- I received this just before coming here -- ” he points to the document, and the red wax seal at the bottom “ -- but it’s her  _ son. _ ”

 

“Prince Chan?” Jimin gasps. The young prince is the queen’s only son, and while he doesn’t have a chance at the Irisian throne (only daughters inherit the throne in Irise, and Queen Chaelin has four), he has a blood claim to that of Mirn, and has been under careful guard since the start of the war.

 

“He’s been kidnapped.”

 

Jimin gawks. “Wha -- how did  _ that _ happen? How could that  _ possibly _ happen? The queen is protected by hundreds of soldiers -- she would have had her children’s protection just as strong, if not stronger.”

 

Jinyoung groans, the sound muffled as he stuffs his face into his hands. “A discordant magic wielder gave up his life to take out half of the boy’s guards. He was being relocated to a safe house outside the capital when they were attacked. Chan survived thanks to a mage who sacrificed herself to protect him, but that left him alive for the attackers to take captive.” 

 

_ A suicide mission, _ Jimin thinks, and he feels only disgust. Someone so dedicated to the cause of violence that they’d kill themselves for it.  _ That’s the worst thing to die for in this or any world. _

 

“Queen Chaelin has the military on a state of alert; she’s requested that any persons available join the search for her son.” Jinyoung reaches over to push aside the document lying over the open face of the tome, staring at it balefully.

 

“That puts the news of the tome on the shelf until this business is solved. The queen will be in no state of mind to take this news,” Jimin sighs; the puff of air causes the candle on the table to flicker. 

 

“It’s just -- I don’t know, Jimin. If Mark was available I would have brought him here, but he’s out with Bam gods know where, doing gods know what.” Jinyoung groans again, before exhaling to control himself. “I don’t think this can wait,” he finally says, voice back to normal. He touches the tome gently. “It’s too dangerous to let it lie.”

 

“But Jinyoung, think of how she must be feeling right now! She must be torn apart with grief and anger,” Jimin protests, feeling a rush of emotion for the queen. He glances up at the ceiling, where Seungkwan and Seokmin are sleeping.  _ Is this how parents feel? _ he wonders.  _ Is this how  _ I’m _ going to feel?  _ The thought sends a jolt of determination and fear through him.

 

“Jimin, the enemy could be looking for this tome right now. They might even already know we have it. We can’t afford to hide this from the queen to spare her feelings.” Jimin grimaces; it’s true, even if it hurts to think about.

 

“So what would you have us do? Hobi and Tae have only just been reunited with their boys, we don’t know where Mark and Bam are, and I’ve got Seungkwan and Seokmin to settle in.” Jimin bites his lip frustratedly -- usually, he’s the go-to choice for travel missions specifically  _ because _ he lacked any family obligations.  _ Would you look at me now, huh, _ he thinks wryly.

 

“I  _ know. _ I’m not used to having so few...options. And on top of that, we’ll be torn between the search and the tome.”

 

They both ponder their options for a moment, but Jimin’s mind is more interested in wandering than doing anything helpful. He tries to drag it back on-task, but it tugs in about ten  _ other  _ directions at once, towards his boys (his boys!), plague magic, a random craving for flatbread and cheese, how many arrows he has stored in the quiver upstairs, and Jeon Jungkook (which bothers him to no end).  _ No. Think about important things, _ he complains inwardly, weakly willing his brain to focus.

 

_ Food, _ his stomach thinks back, even though he ate a perfectly filling meal already this evening. Jimin just gives up fighting it. He’s tired.

Unfortunately, Jinyoung seems to be having a similar dilemma, because his gaze is blank and focused on thin air. Jimin sighs;  _ he’s probably so stressed that his body has gone into shock. I guess I’ll have to pull some stupid ideas out for him. _

 

“Here’s a thought,” Jimin starts, even though there really  _ isn’t _ a thought; he’s completely pulling this out of his ass. “Go to the capital to tell the queen about the plague magic and leave us here. We can keep a lookout for the prince and pick up word from travelers coming and going.”

 

“But who would come with me? It’s not ideal at all to just go alone for a mission of this importance,” Jinyoung snorts, closing his eyes.

 

Jimin rolls his own eyes, leaning forward and staring at Jinyoung hard. “Youngjae, you idiot.”

 

The reaction that pulls from Jinyoung is hilarious. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and his jaw drops down so low that Jimin wonders if he’s unhinged it. Jinyoung’s expression is comical to the point of Jimin actually snorting in laughter. 

 

“Jinyoung? Are you there?” he snickers, waving a hand in front of Jinyoung’s face.

 

“ _ Yes, _ of course I’m here,” Jinyoung snaps. “I just don’t know -- ”

 

“For the love of the Twins, Jinyoung, if you decide to keep him cooped up here he’s going to follow after you anyways. He’s desperate to prove himself to you and show that he’s capable,” Jimin retorts before Jinyoung can go on a tangent about protecting Youngjae. He certainly appreciates Jinyoung’s care for Youngjae, but at this point it’s only holding Youngjae back.

 

“He doesn’t  _ have _ to prove himself,” Jinyoung argues, looking flustered. 

 

“True, but you’re making him  _ feel _ like he does.” Jimin puts a hand to his temple, rubbing his head, before pointing at Jinyoung. “This isn’t going to be a do-or-die mission -- well, at least not like a  _ usual _ do-or-die mission -- and we’re in home territory; it’s not like there will be Mirnians trying to knock his head off every league. Youngjae’s one of our  _ captains, _ Jinyoung. He might be your little brother, but you can’t coddle him anymore; he’s a grown man, and this is war.”

 

Jinyoung lets out a long breath; then he sighs defeatedly. “He must resent me.”

 

“I won’t lie and tell you he’s fine with being passed over,” Jimin replied honestly; Youngjae’s told him as much. “But it’s not too late to move forward.”

 

When it looks as if Jinyoung is hesitant, Jimin huffs and stands up from his seat. “Go home right now and tell him he’s going on this mission with you, idiot. You’re leaving tonight for the capital and that’s final. In the absence of our other second in command, and seeing as you are emotionally unfit to make a decision, I’m deciding for you.” The last part is more a joke than anything, but Jimin is serious about sending Jinyoung off tonight.

 

“You really think tonight is ideal?” Jinyoung grunts, leaning back in his seat.

 

“If you’re too tired, then tomorrow morning at the latest. It’s almost a week’s journey to the capital, and gods know what else you’ll run into while you’re there. And you know what? Bring Tae with you guys. You’ll need his strength on the road. Hobi will be fine watching their kids on his own, he’s got the older ones to help out.”

 

Jinyoung doesn’t argue with the addition of Taehyung to the mission. “We’ll leave in the morning. I assume you’ll know what to do when looking for information on the prince, then?”

 

“Of course; and if I don’t, then Mark will. Stop by Hobi and Tae’s first, and tell Taehyung to be ready. He won’t be happy about it, but we can’t risk your safety. I can meet you at first light at the east gate if you want a farewell party. Are there any supplies you want me to pick up for you?”

 

“No need. I’ll do it on the way home. You can’t just go out at night anymore, remember?” Jinyoung points up at the ceiling, and there’s a smirk twisting his lips.

 

_ Oh. That’s right. _ Jimin glances up again, to where Seungkwan and Seokmin are; he feels a little embarrassed for forgetting. Well, maybe not forgetting; more assuming that he could go out at night without having to worry about them.  _ I’ll have to remind myself every time I leave, _ he decides. 

 

“So I’ll see you at the south gate, first light tomorrow,” Jinyoung says as he rises, reaching for the tome on the table and closing it. “Keep this with you, but make sure it’s hidden. I don’t want anyone getting ahold of it who shouldn’t,” he adds, tapping the message from the queen with his index finger.

 

Jimin scoffs, taking the document and rolling it up in his hands. “I’m good at hiding these kinds of things, don’t worry.”

 

“Is that so.” Jinyoung’s voice has taken a suddenly serious drop. Jimin can practically feel his gaze turn sharp. 

 

More than a little alarmed, Jimin raises his eyes to meet Jinyoung’s. “Jinyoung?” he asks warily. “What’s wrong?”

 

Jinyoung purses his lips; the tome is tucked under his arm protectively, Jimin notices, and he’s frowning.  _ Why..? _

 

“Jimin, you’ve been...different, lately,” Jinyoung finally answers, shuffling his feet, and Jimin feels his stomach twist.

 

_ Jungkook, _ he thinks immediately, mind flooding with fear, heartbeat speeding up rapidly.  _ I wasn’t careful enough. What if he knows? What will happen to us then?  _ Jimin has to force his heart to calm down; even if Jinyoung doesn’t have superior hearing to notice the sound, he’s perceptive enough to notice the visible signs of panic.

 

“How so?” Jimin manages to reply, and to his own credit, it sounds steady. He refrains from exhaling loudly; no matter how badly he wants to calm himself down and remind himself that everything is probably fine, he can’t.  _ If Jinyoung doesn’t know already, doing  _ that _ would give me away completely. _

 

“You’ve gone kind of...soft.”

 

And, alright, Jimin will admit he wasn’t expecting that. He’s inclined to take it as an insult at first; clearly, it shows on his face, because Jinyoung backtracks. “I mean, not in a  _ bad _ way. You’ve just become...I don’t know. More affectionate, lately?”

 

“I’m  _ always _ affectionate,” Jimin retorts, frowning. “Or do you guys just lie to me when you tell me that?”

 

“No, no, not like that, either.” To Jimin’s amusement and annoyance, Jinyoung seems to be struggling to convey his words. It’s unusual, and a little concerning, but right now Jimin is primarily focused on the fact that  _ Jinyoung has noticed something is wrong _ and that  _ he just called Jimin  _ soft.

 

“So what  _ is _ it like?” Jimin mutters sharply, tightening his grip on the piece of paper in his hand; it crinkles audibly.

 

“You’ve just been...I can’t think of a term for it. Like how halfway through the return trip, you suddenly got fond of kids, or how you’ve been staring at Hobi and Tae when they’re together. Mark and Bam, too.”

 

“Hey, I liked kids before the trip,” Jimin protests. “I enjoyed being around Hobi and Tae’s kids.”

 

“I’m not  _ saying _ you didn’t, but you’d be the only one who doesn’t remember how  _ annoyed _ you were with Seungkwan and Seokmin the first few days they were with us. And now you’ve practically adopted them.”

 

“I was annoyed because Seungkwan was being difficult. They grew on me after they settled in.”

 

“Uh-huh. And the staring?”

 

“I…” Jimin doesn’t have a solid response for that, because not even  _ he _ knows why. 

 

Jinyoung’s observation stems from Jimin’s rather obvious habit of late -- which Jimin  _ is _ honest enough to admit he’s done. He’s found people in relationships interesting to watch, though not in a strange way. He just finds himself thinking about the people together and how their partnership works (a little differently with Mark and Bambam, though. Jimin still can’t tell if they want to be family or lovers).

 

“Are you lonely, Jimin?”

 

_ “What?” _ Jimin sputters, nearly knocking over the candle on the table as he stumbles back.

 

“I  _ knew _ it,” Jinyoung says triumphantly, eyes glinting. “You’re interested in someone, aren’t you?”

 

“Wha --  _ no!  _ No! I’m  _ not!” _ Jimin insists. He wasn’t expecting  _ that, _  either. Jinyoung just gives him the most judgemental stare Jimin has seen in the seventeen years they’ve known each other (and that’s a  _ lot _ of judgemental stares).

 

“It’s not shameful to be interested in someone, Jimin; denying it makes it harder for you,” Jinyoung chides, but he’s very clearly holding back laughter.

 

“I’m  _ not _ interested in anyone, I swear on Livi -- ” Jimin bites back the swear, because this isn’t something he should swear to his  _ patron goddess _ over, but also because what if it is true and he’s interested in someone and just doesn’t know it? Honestly, at this point, with the mortification he’s feeling, he’d rather Jinyoung have guessed about Jungkook.

 

“Sure you aren’t, Jiminnie,” Jinyoung teases, even bringing out the use of Jimin’s nickname; obviously he’s taking Jimin’s abrupt stop as proof of guilt. “I won’t tell anyone else until you’ve decided to be honest with yourself.”

 

“Listen, you,” Jimin starts, but doesn’t finish, because what can he say to Jinyoung? What  _ is _ there to say? It’s not true that Jimin is interested in someone -- at least, not to the extent of his knowledge -- but every time he denies it, it just sounds like he’s lying.

 

Jinyoung laughs in the most smug way possible. “Alright, then. I’ll be leaving. East gate, tomorrow at sunrise. Goodnight, Jimin.”

 

“Ass,” Jimin mutters, but he walks Jinyoung to the door anyways and watches him across the road to Hoseok and Taehyung’s house. Then he heads back inside his own, intent on sleeping off the humiliation and near-reveal of his deepest secret.


	9. nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sdlgkhalskdgljkhk guess who posted on time guys cries 
> 
> this chapter was so much fun to write cries my beta [mari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverBlackSun/pseuds/ForeverBlackSun) and i were actually Dying while i was writing it. i sincerely hope you enjoy this as much as we did :')

The first thing Jungkook notices is the smell.

 

By now, he’s used to the salty tang in the air -- they spent four days at sea, which Jungkook loved and Jackson and Yugyeom hated -- but it’s like his nose is being assaulted as he steps off the boat and onto the dock.

 

“What is that  _ smell?” _ Yugyeom gags, scrunching up his face in disgust. Jungkook turns to the city, scanning the surrounding area for whatever it is that’s so...pungent.

 

“It’s the fish, and the markets, too,” Jackson remarks. “The main economy of the entire city? Didn’t you read?”

 

“Of course I did. I just didn’t expect it to smell this bad. Ow!” Jungkook isn’t looking at them, but he assumes Jackson’s just swatted Yugyeom in the arm. He ignores them in favor of looking at the city.

 

Eslyn is  _ much _ more impressive than Kysh. The most striking part is the buildings; they appear to be made of white stone, with grey-tiled roofs, brightening the streets; the blinding white facades are toned down by plants hanging from windows and vines climbing up the sides. People bustle about the city happily, carrying baskets, pushing carts, calling out to each other. Jungkook doesn’t think his eyes can get enough of the scene, until they catch the telltale shine of glass in the sky.

 

He looks up and finds the tops of the taller structures are decorated with intricate glass spires, which catch and scatter the sunlight beautifully across the streets. It’s probably one of the most amazing things Jungkook has ever seen, these giant glass structures climbing high into the brilliantly blue sky.

 

“Jungkook,” Yugyeom says, placing a hand on Jungkook’s back. Jungkook shudders slightly -- it’s  _ strange _ to be touched and actually  _ feel _ it, through clothing instead of armor. “Your papers. We need to clear the authorities.”

 

“Right.” Jungkook breaks his gaze away from the beauty of Eslyn’s port to fumble for the papers, tucked away inside his rucksack. As he unfolds them, he smiles fondly, looking at Namjoon’s signature beside his own; Namjoon had seen him off to Eslyn alone, leaving Suga behind at headquarters to prevent suspicion. There had been tears in the blonde mage’s eyes as he hugged Jungkook one last time.

 

“Be safe, and remember your mission. We’ll be waiting for you to come home,” Namjoon had said, patting Jungkook’s head. Jungkook thinks that he stayed there, watching on the dock, until the boat had disappeared from view.

 

As he, Yugyeom, and Jackson all proceed through the port authorities, Jungkook thanks Namjoon for handling the paperwork needed to get them in. The three of them pass through smoothly, the woman handling their documents even welcoming Jungkook to the city.

 

“Welcome indeed,” Jackson snorts quietly; Jungkook elbows him.

 

“Don’t get carried away. Remember where we are.” His attention returns to the street they’ve just entered; it’s so alive and loud that Jungkook has a hard time taking it all in. “Where do we go, now?”

 

“Some job remembering, Kook,” Yugyeom teases. He pulls up a note, which lists potential places to stay at; some were provided by Namjoon, who’d done research for them, and others by Eslyn natives who’d been on board the ship and more than willing to recommend good inns. “This one -- er, the Wading Willow -- it’s supposed to have fair prices; Namjoon has it listed. And plenty of people on the ship suggested it.” Jungkook and Jackson lean in over his shoulder to peer down at the list.

 

“Oh, then that’s probably the logical choice. But, uh, how do we get there?” Jackson glances up from the note to scan the surrounding area. 

 

“No clue, but I’m sure we can ask someone. The people here seem pretty nice, don’t you think?” Jungkook replies. Of course, he’s referring to more than just the Eslyn natives on the ship or the people who welcomed them to the city, but Yugyeom and Jackson shrug.

 

“If you say so, Kook. Why don’t you go ask someone?” Jackson suggests. “They seem to like you best.”

 

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Jungkook mutters, though his cheeks heat a little at the subtle jab. Jackson is undoubtedly referring to how the other ship’s passengers couldn’t get enough of him during the trip, always talking to him (or talking  _ about _ him) when they got the chance. Jungkook hadn’t really enjoyed the attention; he gets shy around strangers. But he supposes that he can put on a front and ask around for directions.

 

The three of them don’t have to wait very long for help; the first person Jungkook asks directs them to the inn without question, and even suggests good taverns in the area to eat at.

 

“Thank you very much,” Jungkook says, doing his best to cover up his accent and bowing his head. He leads the way to the inn, with Yugyeom and Jackson behind him.

 

“You’re right, they are pretty friendly people,” Yugyeom laughs. “I suppose that must come from living in such a nice city and climate. Even if the smell is a bit off-putting.”

 

“You’d better get used to it, then,” Jungkook scoffs. “We’re going to be here for a while.”

 

After that, it’s mostly quiet, since the three of them are occupied with staring around them at the city. Its wide, open streets and loud markets allow them to really  _ see _ everything Eslyn has to offer. Jungkook is loathe to admit it, but the lively atmosphere and beautiful architecture combines to make Eslyn probably the most incredible city he’s ever seen.

 

He can’t help but stop and admire the massive fountain in the center of a square, built of the same white stone as the buildings -- everything here seems to be hewn from the white rock, even the streets, illuminating the whole city. The fountain depicts a woman dancing among waves, arms stretched and hair flowing. “Amazing,” he breathes. “The stonemasonry of this city is something to really marvel at.”

 

“It really is,” Yugyeom agrees. “Everything here seems so...pretty. And clean, too.”

 

Jungkook smiles, nodding his head. But it’s not just the stone work, either. The entire city is built across many islands, connected by hundreds of great wooden bridges, which are masterpieces of wood and metal. There are metal lanterns hanging from the sides of buildings and on posts along the streets, which must illuminate the city beautifully at night. It’s nothing ostentatiously grand, like some of the architecture back in Cesta, but the way everything fits together in Eslyn impresses and warms Jungkook’s heart at the same time.

 

“You would hardly guess this is the same city that was destroyed two years ago,” Jackson remarks. Jungkook feels a twinge of guilt; it’s true. If he hadn’t known what city this was, he probably wouldn’t believe that two years past, it was all rubble.

 

“Yeah. Let’s get to the inn first, and then we can sightsee.” Jungkook returns to walking, hands wrapped around the strap of his knapsack; it’s only a heartbeat before Yugyeom and Jackson are catching up to him. 

 

They find the inn before noon, even though they get lost twice; the city inhabitants are friendly and patient, directing them along the right roads until they arrive at the Wading Willow. Jungkook gets the feeling that confused travelers are common amongst these parts.

 

The Willow is clearly a busy inn; the common area on the first floor is bursting with activity: people of all ages are eating and drinking --  _ drinking? At noon?  _ Jungkook cocks his head in confusion -- and laughing. 

 

“Room for three, please,” Yugyeom says over the counter to the innkeep. The innkeep, a young woman with long red hair, looks them over as if estimating how much trouble they’ll be. 

 

“Just one room?” she inquires, opening a heavy-looking book and taking up a feather quill.

 

“Yes.” Jungkook watches as the woman scans over several pages and marks down something before closing the book.

 

“It’ll be eleven fens a night,” she says, tapping the wooden counter with one hand. “Pricy, since there’s three of you, but cheaper than separate rooms. I  _ will _ raise the cost if you’re noisy or like to cause problems for my other guests.”

 

“We won’t make trouble,” Yugyeom says, flashing her a very winning smile. 

 

“How long will you be staying?” the woman inquires. 

 

“We’re not certain.”

 

“Hm. Well, once you’ve determined that, let me know; payment, please, and then I’ll take you to your room.”

 

Yugyeom dutifully hands over the required amount; Jungkook wonders what the conversion of fens to nols is;  _ if fens are equivalent to nols, then we’re paying quite a bit for just one night, _ he thinks, watching as the innkeep counts out the bronze-colored coins.  _ Let’s hope these prices are actually reasonable. _

 

“Follow me, please.” The woman walks out from behind the counter after pouring the coins into a pouch, which she keeps in her hand. Jungkook leads the way after her.

 

The room is on the third floor, and the window overlooks another large square; there are actually two bunks. “This room can accommodate up to four,” the woman says, holding the door open for the men to walk into the room. “You’re more than welcome to leave your things on the fourth bed, but don’t break it or dirty the blankets. Otherwise you’ll end up paying for that too.”

 

“Of course. Thank you, miss -- er…” Yugyeom pauses. 

 

“Hyuna, mister..?” The red-haired woman raises an eyebrow at Yugyeom.

 

“Yugyeom,” Yugyeom replies. “And this is Jungkook, and Jackson.” He motions at each in turn.

 

“Well, you’re very welcome, Yugyeom.” Hyuna pauses before leaving the room. “Is there anything I can help you with before I leave you to your own devices? I can tell you’re travelers, but I don’t know what you’re here for.”

 

Jungkook exchanges a look with his friends.  _ This could be an easy opportunity for information. _ “Actually, yes,” Jungkook says. “We were wondering if you could direct us to any...social hubs?”

 

“Social hubs?” Hyuna puts her finger to her chin, thinking. “Well, at this time of day, you’re most likely to catch up on the latest gossip at the bath houses. In the evening, any old tavern will do.”

 

“Bathhouses?” Jackson echoes, sounded confused. “As in public bathhouses?”

 

“Of course,” Hyuna replies, with a small smile. “Everyone goes to them, at least three times a week. You must be from far away, if you haven’t heard of bathhouses before.”

 

“N-no, it’s not that,” Jackson stammers, but Hyuna just laughs.

 

“Well, it’s an experience I’d recommend. The bathhouses are very nice facilities and are kept outstandingly clean. We like to joke that you’ve only really been to Eslyn if you’ve tried them. Let me know if you need anything else, gentlemen. You know where to find me.” And with that, she’s gone.

 

It’s silent for a few moments, until Jackson says “Public  _ bathhouses?” _ in the most incredulous way possible.

 

Jungkook purses his lips. “We have a few in Cesta, but not to the extent it sounds like Eslyn has.”

 

“Aw, Jacks, are you  _ shy?” _ Yugyeom teases, dropping his bags to reach over and prod Jackson’s shoulder.

 

“I’m from the  _ countryside,”  _ Jackson says indignantly, recoiling. “We bathe in  _ private.” _

 

“I mean, I am, too, but I’m not so bothered by it,” Yugyeom snickers. “At any rate, it sounds like that’s going to be our first option. She  _ did _ say at this time of the day, so there are probably plenty of people out right now.”

 

Jungkook contents himself with looking out the window while Jackson tries to argue back, saying something about his dignity. He places his bag on the lower bed of one of the bunks, before standing at the window sill and watching the streets below.

 

Even here, the city is bustling; Jungkook watches as people come and go, parents with their children, merchants with their carts, shoppers with wicker baskets.

 

With every passing second, Jungkook feels his excitement growing. The excitement of new surroundings had clouded his mind temporarily, but now, his thoughts are clear, and they’re revolving around one thing alone.

 

_ Jimin. _

 

Somewhere, in this big, beautiful city, Jungkook knows Jimin is staying. Jimin never told him where he lived, and it was never confirmed that Jimin’s troop was the one returning here, but Jungkook just has this feeling in his chest;  _ Jimin is here in the city. _

 

“Hey, Kookie,” Yugyeom calls, drawing Jungkook’s attention away from the scenery. “We’re going to go to one of the bathhouses.”

 

“W-we are?” Jungkook is actually surprised that this is happening. Sure, when Hyuna had mentioned the bathhouses, he’d thought  _ isn’t that interesting? _ , but he hadn’t thought they would  _ seriously _ go to one.

 

“Yes, and we are going to blend in with the crowd by using the offered facilities. Come on, let’s go,” Yugyeom says, ignoring Jackson’s gawking. Yugyeom is already out the door when he calls back, “We all need a bath anyways. Hurry up.”

 

“I guess we don’t have a choice, Jacks,” Jungkook mutters, gripping Jackson’s shoulders from behind and steering him out of the room (Jackson seems almost frozen in shock). 

 

Yugyeom is able to find a bathhouse quickly --  _ too _ quickly, for Jungkook’s liking. As they stand in front of the entrance, waiting to enter, Jungkook feels himself turning red. 

 

_ I’ve never actually  _ used _ a public bath, _ he frets, twisting his fingers together. Even when he was with the troop, there were always dividers between tubs, or he would find time to bathe on his own if they were near a river. And back home in Cesta, his family had its  _ own _ private bath, so he’d never needed to use a public one.

 

“I’ve never so missed the luxuries of being a captain,” Jackson whispers beside Jungkook; Jungkook nods in agreement. 

 

“Alright! So, we pay an entry fee, and then we’re all set to just meander about,” Yugyeom says, sliding between them and stretching his arms. “A warm bath will be nice.”

 

“Ugh,” Jackson groans, but he doesn’t put up a fight -- and neither does Jungkook -- as Yugyeom places his hands firmly on their backs and pushes them forwards into the bathhouse.

 

It’s a surreal experience for Jungkook, going through the bathhouse, especially when he finds out that it’s a  _ mixed _ bathhouse. It’s impossible for him to hide his blush, so he prays that it’s just mistaken for a flush from the steam. 

 

He strips as quickly as he can and goes to slip into the nearest empty tub, with his clothes and a towel (offered at the entrance) placed strategically on the edge, ready to be used in need of escape. Yugyeom and Jackson slip into the very same tub, though Jackson remains hunched up while Yugyeom stretches out.

 

“This is great,” Yugyeom sighs, sinking further into the water. “These are a lot nicer baths than the other ones I’ve been to. And they smell nice, too. I wonder what it is?”

 

“How can you  _ be _ like this?” Jackson hisses. “There are so many  _ naked _ people here.”

 

“Jackson, nudity is a fact of life.”

 

Jackson mutters something too quiet for Jungkook to catch; Jungkook tries to settle his nerves by closing his eyes and following Yugyeom’s example. Jackson  _ is _ right -- there are a  _ lot _ more naked people in this place than Jungkook had ever thought he’d see in his entire lifetime. Still, he sees the logic of Yugyeom’s remark; beneath all their clothing, everyone is naked.

 

_ Okay, enough. No bathtime thoughts. Just relax. _

 

“At this rate,” Jungkook murmurs, just loud enough for the others to hear, “we won’t be doing any information gathering.”

 

“No, because one of us is too shy to do anything but hide -- even though he practically lives for showing off his abs,” Yugyeom jokes, gesturing to Jackson, who responds with a glare. “Another one of us is brooding in thought -- ”

 

“Hey,” Jungkook protests, blinking one eye open. “I don’t  _ brood, _ I just think a lot.”

 

“ -- as I said, brooding in thought, and the last one of us is too comfortable and relaxed to really care about anything anymore,” Yugyeom finishes, raising his arms behind his head and leaning back. “I mean it, I’m so comfortable here, I don’t want to move.”

 

“It doesn’t look like any one of us will be moving for some time, yeah?” Jungkook says, bringing his hand up to the surface of the water and moving it to create tiny ripples.

 

“For sure. Though we will have to get out eventually to rinse off and dry ourselves.”

 

The bathhouse is filled with the buzz of chatter between the guests; Jungkook occasionally tries to tune into different conversations, partly for the mission and partly because he’s bored. There really isn’t much to listen to besides the typical “did you know the baker’s husband was caught  _ cheating _ on her?” or “the old peddler on our street  _ finally  _ left this week -- I’m beyond relieved, he was scaring my children.”

 

Jungkook guesses that they’ll have to do more than just lounge around in the tubs the next time they come here (and yes, he has decided there will be a next time -- he’s quite enjoying the nice bath, even if he  _ is _ on display for everyone else to see).

 

He’s starting to doze off a bit in the water when the volume of chatter increases dramatically; he turns and rises slightly out of the tub to see where it’s coming from.

 

“Just a bunch of kids. I wonder if it’s bathing day for an orphanage or something, because there are a lot,” Yugyeom informs him, able to see clearly from his seat without having to turn. Jungkook replies with an “oh”, sitting back down.

 

“I hope they don’t splash a lot,” Jungkook sighs. “Or scream.”

 

“They’re kids, let them have fun.”

 

Evidently, the children are well-behaved, on the most part; nobody seems to have complaints. Jungkook is starting to get comfortable again when there’s a tap on his shoulder, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. He thinks Jackson squeaks from the other side of the water.

 

“Excuse me, do you mind if we join your tub? Most of the others are too full,” says a man’s voice; without thinking, Jungkook looks up, before quickly averting his eyes, a furious blush rising into his cheeks. Behind him are two men who look to be roughly about his age (Jungkook tells himself that’s the  _ only _ thing he saw that matters).

 

“O-of course,” Jungkook replies, because it’s  _ polite _ and there  _ is _ plenty of room in the tub, but that doesn’t stop him from maintaining a beet-red flush on his face as the man offers a pleased “thank you,” before stepping into the tub with his companion.

 

“Ah, perfect water today, Mark,” the man who made the request says contentedly. 

 

“Better than usual?” His friend, Mark, slips down beside him, stretching out. Jungkook scoots away from them, to give them space and also give  _ himself _ space; he finds it difficult, because he’s reverted to curling up into a ball, and scooting away is harder when you’ve crushed yourself into a ball.

 

“Mhm. Much.” From the corner of his eye, Jungkook notices Jackson both shying away from the newcomers, but also... _ staring. _

 

Jungkook has to blink twice, but he hasn’t seen wrong; Jackson is definitely staring at the pair, and in a very interested way. Jungkook gives the strangers a quick glance -- both are lean but muscular; the one called Mark has dark blonde hair and the other’s is reddish brown -- and sure, they’re not bad looking, but Jackson never just stares at people like that. Especially not at a time like this.

 

So Jungkook amuses himself with watching Jackson stare, Yugyeom doze, and the newcomers chat. After a time, Mark begins to wash his friend’s back with a small cloth, which Jungkook finds quite interesting.

 

“You’re staring,” the man with reddish hair remarks, after catching Jungkook’s gaze. “Is this unfamiliar to you? You look foreign.”

 

“Bam, don’t be rude,” Mark chides, but continues to scrub gently. 

 

“Oh…” Jungkook smiles sheepishly, embarrassed at being caught -- even though he’s a little miffed that  _ he _ was noticed and not  _ Jackson, _ who’s still looking. “I didn’t mean to stare.” 

 

“No, no, it’s fine. I take it you  _ are _ foreigners, then; skinship is an important aspect of bathing here in Eslyn,” replies the man -- Bam, if Jungkook heard correctly, though he’s not sure if the name is a joke.

 

“Skinship?” Jungkook echoes. It’s a new concept to him.

 

“Nothing dirty,” Bam says with a shrug. “Just having skin contact with another person. It’s a way of showing trust.”

 

“Interesting,” Yugyeom says from his side of the tub, apparently having been awake the whole time. He opens his eyes and gives Jungkook a humorous look. “Hey, Kook, did you want your back scrubbed?”

 

At first, Jungkook is tempted to just say no, because it’s strange, but at the same time, he’s kind of curious about the practice and also, he doesn’t want to seem flippant of the...skinship culture in Eslyn.

 

“You know what? Why not?” Jungkook shoots back, quirking an eyebrow. Yugyeom, obviously surprised by the response, raises his own, but moves to grab a smaller towel from his own pile of things.

 

“If you say so.” Yugyeom grins and slides over to Jungkook’s side of the tub.

 

“Is this your first time coming to a public bath?” questions Bam. He’s eyeing the three Mirnians with curiosity, like he’s never seen foreigners before.

 

“For some of us, yes,” Yugyeom chuckles, wetting the towel and bringing it up to Jungkook’s back. “Turn around, unless you want me to scrub your face, Kook.” Jungkook rolls his eyes but does as he’s told; it feels strange when the cloth touches his skin, but it’s definitely not unpleasant.

 

“Ah, I see! Is it your first time in Eslyn, too?”

 

“Bam, you’re being nosy again,” Mark says quietly, passing Bam the towel and turning to have his own back washed.

 

“Sorry, sorry.” Bam is quick to apologize, taking the cloth in hand. “I don’t mean to pry.”

 

“It’s perfectly fine,” Yugyeom laughs, still scrubbing at Jungkook’s skin; Jungkook is starting to understand why it’s a popular practice. It feels nice. “This is our first time in the city. We’re actually kind of surprised at how friendly everyone is here.”

 

“Eslyn is a great city,” Bam says enthusiastically. “What are your names? Where are you from?”

 

“I’m Yugyeom.” Yugyeom prods Jungkook’s shoulder, signaling for him to introduce himself.

 

“Jungkook; nice to meet you,” Jungkook says, trying to smile as best he can. While he’s quickly adapting to the whole bathhouse situation, he still finds it a bit difficult to look strangers in the eye when they’re sharing the same bath as him and are also...completely naked.

 

“Yugyeom, Jungkook, a pleasure to meet you,” Bam says, bobbing his head. “Is this also a friend of yours?” He gives Jackson a glance and a smile.

 

Jungkook is ready to answer for Jackson, who will surely cower at the invitation to speak, but he’s surprised beyond belief when Jackson  _ uncurls a little _ and straightens up. “Jackson,” he announces. “I’m Jackson. And, er, yes, we’re all traveling together.”

 

“Travelers! That’s interesting!” Bam exclaims. Mark suddenly flicks water at him, and Bam shakes his head. “Oops, I forgot; I’m Bambam, and this is Mark.” Jungkook feels his eyebrows raise --  _ there’s no way this man is actually named Bambam, right? _

 

“Bambam?” Yugyeom repeats, sounding incredulous. 

 

“It’s true,” Bambam chuckles. “My childhood nickname never really went away, haha.”

 

“I think it’s nice,” Jackson blurts out; Yugyeom and Jungkook both whip their heads to fix Jackson with a look of utter astoundment, but Bambam and Mark don’t pay it any mind. 

 

_ Are you okay? _ Jungkook mouths at Jackson -- he thought hell would burn over before Jackson was ever comfortable in a public bath, much less comfortable enough in a public bath to compliment a total stranger. Jackson gives an embarrassed grin.

 

“Thank you, Jackson,” Bambam says; he places the towel on the edge of the tub to lean back and relax, done with washing Mark’s back.

 

Speaking of which, Jungkook can feel his skin beginning to turn raw from the scrubbing. “Hey, Kyum, that’s enough,” he says over his shoulder. “Want me to wash yours?” 

 

“Sure.” Yugyeom passes him the towel, and he returns the favor for Yugyeom, rubbing the towel in gentle circles over the expanse of Yugyeom’s back (this is the first time Jungkook’s really seen Yugyeom’s back -- or anyone’s, really -- up so close; there are a handful of little scars scattered across his skin).

 

Yugyeom and Jackson end up chatting with Bambam quite a bit, talking about where they’re visiting from (fake stories, of course, but they sound real enough, and they can’t hurt these civilians, anyways), their backgrounds, where they’re staying. Bambam gives them advice on good places to go in the city and things they should visit “to really  _ see _ Eslyn.”

 

It seems that Bambam does most of the talking for the pair; Mark seems content just listening to the conversation with his head leaned against Bambam’s shoulder. Jungkook is still having a hard time believing Jackson would so openly socialize in this situation.

 

Once he’s finished washing Yugyeom’s back, he sets the towel down and returns to relaxing. The waters here obviously have some kind of enchantment or mixture in them, because now his skin feels soft and clean, and he isn’t pruning up despite having spent a while in the water.

 

The conversation continues amicably -- Jungkook and Yugyeom get the surprise of their lives when Jackson accepts Bambam’s offer to wash his back, stretching out his legs and moving over to Bambam’s side. Yugyeom gives Jungkook a look that says, “Are you seeing this?” Jungkook responds with a dazed nod.

 

After that, Jungkook finds himself nodding off again. He tells himself that he should probably get out soon and rinse off, but something keeps him seated, content and comfortable.

 

And then, the gods decide to smack him in the face.

 

“Ah, there you guys are! I just finished washing up Seokmin and Seungkwan. Do you mind if I join you?”

 

Jungkook is suddenly snapped into full consciousness, more awake than he’s ever felt in his entire life.

 

_ I know that voice. _

 

\--

 

Jimin is helping Seungkwan hang flowers over the bedroom windowsill when the door to his house is slammed open and approximately five voices start screaming at once.

 

“Park Jimin!” howls Hoseok from downstairs; Jimin rolls his eyes.  _ Of course _ it would be Hoseok and his brood; they’re the only ones who feel the need to  _ destroy his door _ every time they visit. Jimin leaves the door unlocked when he’s home for the day in case they come over, but that doesn’t make kicking it open every time acceptable.

 

“Upstairs, Hobi,” Jimin calls back, finishing off the planter and patting Seungkwan’s head. “There you go! Does that look okay?”

 

“Perfect,” Seungkwan giggles. “Thank you for helping us decorate, papa.”

 

“Of course,” Jimin says with a smile, feeling pleased to hear “papa” come from Seungkwan so naturally and also to see things looking a little more lively. Honestly, there isn’t much decor in the room, but it’s been a week and a half since the boys moved in, and now there are plants on the windowsill and a small table with a chair in the corner for the boys to use for writing (though Jimin has yet to get them anything to write  _ with; _ he plans to soon). There are also some candles here and there, and on the table are two tiny glass birds, which Jimin had bought as gifts for the boys on the second day.

 

He won’t ever forget the looks on their faces when he produced them from his tunic pocket and pressed them into their little hands; it will forever be one of his happiest memories.

 

In the present, however, is a less pleasant memory; up the stairs comes a mass of squealing children and Hoseok, who looks triumphant. 

 

Seokmin, who was sitting on the bed while Jimin and Seungkwan decorated, leaps down and runs over to Hoseok. “Hobi!” he shouts, hugging Hoseok’s waist tightly. Seungkwan leaves Jimin’s side to greet the mage in a similar manner.

 

“Hello, boys,” Hoseok laughs. “Are you having a good day?”

 

“A great day!” Seokmin exclaims. “Papa is helping us decorate.”

 

“Is that so?” Hoseok gives Jimin a proud smile, which makes Jimin flush a little. Every day, Hoseok has stopped by to see how Jimin is faring, and every day Jimin finds himself adjusting better to having his boys around.

 

“What brings you here today, Hobi? I wasn’t expecting you until much later this evening,” Jimin greets his friend, coming over and giving Hoseok a hug of his own. “Did you need me to do something?”

 

“No, not quite. Well, sort of. It’s more like a demand, actually.” Hoseok shushes his children, who have broken out in a chorus of “can I tell them?” and “can we go now?”

 

“A demand for what, exactly?” Jimin eyes the other children with curiosity.

 

Before Hoseok can explain, one of the other boys, Mingyu, jumps up and yells, “We’re going to get  _ real _ baths today!”

 

It takes Jimin a second too long to process that. “Bathhouse?” he guesses, quirking an eyebrow at Hoseok. The houses in their neighborhood typically use the smaller, communal compound at the end of the street, but it only fits a few families at a time, and lacks the true bathhouse atmosphere.

 

“I figured it was time to take them to the public one; it’s been some time since we last used the big one on Violet Road. And your boys haven’t been to one yet, am I right?” Hoseok shrugs, tugging on the back of Mingyu’s shirt. “Don’t blurt out things like that,” he scolds the boy. Mingyu pouts, but mutters a quiet “sorry.”

 

“You’re right, they haven’t. Come to think of it, it’s been a while since I last went to one, too,” Jimin muses. He puts his hands on Seungkwan and Seokmin’s backs. “How about it? Would you like to go to a bathhouse?”   
  


“I’ve never been to one,” Seungkwan admits, looking shy.

 

“I have! I want to go!” Seokmin says happily. “We should go, Seungkwanie, it’s lots of fun, and we can play with Taetae and Hobi’s kids too!”

 

“That sounds fun,” Seungkwan replies. “Can we go, papa?”

 

“Sure,” Jimin answers. “But you have to promise to behave, alright? No running around and screaming, otherwise I won’t take you again.”

 

“We’ll be good!” Seungkwan and Seokmin sing together, a line well rehearsed at this point.

 

“I know you will. Why don’t you go walk with Hobi’s boys?” Jimin nudges them forward gently, and they giggle as they run off and attach themselves to one of Hoseok’s kids -- Jihoon, Jimin notes with utter amusement (the older boy doesn’t appear pleased to be their selected walking mate, but he doesn’t shove them off). The children are already headed down the stairs; Jimin takes the time to laugh breathily.

 

“Having second thoughts about kids?” Hoseok teases lightly.

 

“I would be if I had  _ your _ kids,” Jimin grins in response. “I wonder how you’re able to fare so well without Tae being here. How much will I need to pay for entry, again?”

 

“Just five rills for yourself; the boys will get in free.” 

 

“Ah. I’d forgotten how cheap it was.” For a moment, Jimin had worried that it would be closer to a whole fen, but he’s relieved to know it’s only about a quarter of one.

 

“It’s one of the better ways to pay taxes, I suppose. You get good return on your payment.” All of the big public bathhouses are run by the city government, and Jimin often wonders if it’s because of their income that the city is able to manage itself so well. Bathhouses are quite profitable, especially in a city that loves to keep itself clean.

 

“I’ll say,” Jimin agrees. “Go ahead and wait for me downstairs, I’m going to get the money.” Hoseok nods and returns to the first floor, while Jimin runs to his room and grabs his bag of coins. It’s safely tucked away in a compartment under his bed -- along with the document from the queen, and letters that Jinyoung has sent him.

 

_ Hm, _ he wonders, turning over a couple of fens in his hand.  _ Maybe I should bring some extra money, just in case we see something along the way back that the boys could use for their room. _ He settles for taking five fens -- if they do buy something, it probably won’t be big, but there are plenty of things that Jimin could buy with four and a half fens.

 

“Sorry I took so long,” Jimin says, closing the front door behind him and joining the big group on the street. 

 

“No worries. There’s plenty of time.” Hoseok waves off the apology. “Alright, you boys remember the way; be careful when you cross in the street and  _ don’t _ touch anything without asking us,” he calls ahead to the boys, who are ahead of Hoseok and Jimin a little ways. 

 

“Yes, papa,” they all reply in unison, before returning to excited giggles and jumping up and down. Some of the older boys -- Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Jisoo -- are there to herd them together and urge them along towards the bathhouse.

 

“With Tae gone on the mission, I can only thank Livinia for our older ones,” Hoseok sighs, walking languidly beside Jimin. “Sometimes I wonder what we’d do without them.”

 

“You’d be insane,” Jimin jokes. “I don’t know what you were thinking, adopting  _ ten _ kids. It’s been two years since you adopted Hansol and I still don’t know what you were thinking when you did it.” 

 

“Neither do I, really. I just caved when Tae asked; he gave me  _ the look _ and I couldn’t say no. How could I? He’s been wanting to adopt these boys since he was old enough to take care of them at the orphanage.”

 

“Yes, and then you went and adopted the  _ entire _ orphanage,” Jimin drones. 

 

“Hey, they take pretty good care of themselves most of the time. I’m not burping infants or changing soiled clothes,” Hoseok retorts.

 

“Yes, but you’re still putting out fires,” Jimin says pointedly. “No ill will to poor Hansol, though. Have you been teaching him ways to control his magic?”

 

“We’ve been trying, but it’s not that simple. Magic shifts and changes until about eleven or twelve years old; I worry he might have discordant magic and that fire is just the only form he’s able to project it in for now.” 

 

“You’ll be hard pressed to find someone who could help with  _ that _ .” Jimin feels a pang of sympathy for his friend. Aside from the fact that things burn regularly in their house, Hoseok and Taehyung are likely worried for their son and his safety.  Jimin can’t imagine what he would feel like if one day, Seokmin started blasting flames from his fingertips, unable to control himself.

 

“Let’s not talk about this anymore -- it’s going to stress me out,” Hoseok says after a minute, laughing softly.

 

“Of course,” Jimin is quick to answer. Their conversation turns to talk of their own childhoods and experiences at the bathhouses.

 

“Do you remember the time you fell on your face over the edge of a tub -- ”

 

“Gods, of course I do. Jinyoung  _ still _ hasn’t let me live that down.”

 

“I will never forget the  _ look _ on your face. It was incredible.”

 

“Seriously, Hobi?”

 

Along the way, Hoseok suggests they stop by Mark and Bambam’s house to invite them to join. They take a small detour -- the house is closer to the center of the city, near a popular tavern and a small handmade goods market, so Hoseok takes the children to browse the stalls while Jimin knocks on Mark and Bambam’s door.

 

“Jiminnie!” Bambam greets them, opening the door and grinning. “What brings you here?”

 

“Hobi and I are taking our families down to the bathhouse on Violet Road, did you want to come along?” Jimin asks. “You and Mark, if he’s home.”

 

“Oh, sure, we’ll come. We went a couple of days ago, so now’s a good time to go again. I’ll run upstairs and get Mark, you can go ahead and wait by the market stalls.” Bambam gives a short wave before closing the door again; Jimin can hear him yelling up to Mark to get ready to go to the bathhouse.

 

It’ll be a few minutes before they’re both ready, so Jimin wanders over to where his boys are browsing the stalls. He’s surprised when Seungkwan comes running up to him with a big smile.

 

“Papa, look!” Seungkwan exclaims excitedly, grabbing Jimin’s hand and pulling him over to a stall, where Seokmin already waits.

 

“Oh, blankets,” Jimin hums, scanning the merchandise. The boys have been asking for a thicker blanket, since the one they have is a little thin. “Do you see one you like?”

 

“This one!” Seokmin takes Jimin’s free hand and tugs him towards a blanket that’s been woven with a star pattern on it, in the colors of blue and white. “Seungkwanie saw it first and I liked it too!”

 

“That’s a very nice one,” Jimin says, smiling. He reaches out and rubs the material of the blanket between his fingers -- it’s soft and sturdy. “Would you like me to get that for you?”

 

“Yes, please!” Jimin feels his smile growing wider, thumbing at the pouch of coins on his belt and approaching the vendor, a tired but friendly-looking woman.

“How much for the blue one?” he asks.

 

“Six fens,” the woman replies, rolling up her sleeves and straightening up. It’s a reasonable price for a handmade blanket of such quality, but… 

 

“Damn,” Jimin mutters.   _ I only have four on me to spare. _

 

“If you’re truly invested in buying it, I can lower the price to five,” the woman bargains, obviously catching Jimin’s hesitance. 

 

“I’m afraid I don’t have enough money on me at the moment,” he admits. “But if you’re willing to hold onto it for me, I can come back to purchase it this afternoon full price. It’s a wonderful piece of work, and I can assure you it’ll get good use,” he adds with a smile.

 

“Oh, I’d be perfectly willing to do that for such a committed...father, I presume?” The woman is clearly flattered by Jimin’s offer, and glances over at Seungkwan and Seokmin, who hover near their choice of blanket.

 

“Yes, thank you,” Jimin replies. “Boys,” he calls over to Seungkwan and Seokmin. “I can’t purchase this right now, since I didn’t bring enough money for a blanket, but I’ll come back and buy it for you later today, alright?”

 

“Pinky promise? We really,  _ really _ like it,” Seokmin gushes.

 

“Pinky promise,” Jimin chuckles, holding out his little finger to make the oath. Seokmin nods seriously, wrapping his tiny pinky around Jimin’s and shaking once. “Now let’s head to the bathhouse and clean up. You’ll see me later this afternoon,” Jimin says to the woman over his shoulder, as the boys lead him away. “Thank you for holding it for us!” The vendor calls out her own thanks from behind them.

 

As Hoseok rounds his children up from the various stalls, Jimin and his boys wait patiently near Mark and Bambam’s, until they finally show up in the street.

 

“Hey,” Mark greets with a wave. Bambam follows behind him, immediately going to greet Seungkwan and Seokmin and running ahead with them to chat in the amusingly serious way adults tend to converse with children. Mark walks alongside Jimin, keeping his pace slow. “Any further news from Jinyoung?” he asks quietly, stretching his arms over his head.

 

“No; he last sent a bird two days ago, and they’d just reached the capital.” Jimin gives quick glances around him with his eyes, careful to ensure nobody is listening; even if they are in friendly territory, it’s often best to keep their business subtle. Innocents could be hurt, and spies could be directly fed information.

 

“I expect they must be having some difficulty getting an audience,” Mark snorts, before yawning. “Before you ask, I haven’t heard news on the queen’s son.”

 

“You read my mind,” Jimin laughs. “How is the search for information?”

 

“As well as it can go, without actually  _ getting _ information. I have eyes and ears in each of the main markets, along the administration street, and in the port. That’s about all I can manage, without involving more people than I should.”

 

It’s been a general agreement amongst the captains of the unit to keep quiet, both about the tome of plague magic and the situation with the queen’s son. From what Jinyoung had said in a letter, the queen wants to keep up appearances as though nothing is wrong to confuse the enemy, and so only a select few have been permitted knowledge of Prince Chan’s kidnapping.

 

“Maybe we should start coming to the bathhouses more often. Then Bam can gossip with everyone and maybe catch something we’ve missed,” Jimin snickers, though it  _ is _ a valid suggestion. 

 

“Who knows? Maybe his endless chatter might fetch us something in the end.” Mark’s voice is fond, despite the abrasive nature of his words.

 

“As long as you keep him in check. Can’t have him chatting away  _ too _ much, can we?”

 

“I  _ excel _ at that, thank Livinia.”

 

That’s about as far as conversation goes between the two of them. Jimin’s brain juggles the duty of watching his boys with his own thoughts (he really doesn’t need to worry, though -- Bambam is with them and Hobi too, with his own family).

 

So Jimin contents himself with just thinking to himself, about whatever comes to mind. At first it’s trivial things, like whether or not he bought bread for dinner tonight, or if he should trade in some of his rills for fens later today, but then he finds himself focusing on a very peculiar feeling that’s stirring in his gut.

 

At first, he passes it off as hunger -- he’d skimped a bit on breakfast, but that’s not unusual. Then, as they near the bathhouse, the feeling begins to grow stronger, and he shifts in discomfort.

 

“Jimin? Are you alright? You look like you saw your grandmother’s ghost,” Bambam says from beside him, temporarily distracting him from the strange sensation.

 

“Oh, ha-ha. I’m fine. I just...I have this weird feeling in my gut.” Jimin sighs. “It’s kind of an anxious feeling, you know?” When Bambam just gives him a blank look, Jimin just waves it off with a shaky smile. “Never mind. It’s probably nothing. I’m just used to being in better control of my emotions.”

 

“Maybe it’s the boys? Maybe you’re just nervous about bringing them here, or something, since it’s their first time coming to a big bathhouse and you don’t want them to fall on their faces like you did that one time.”

 

“Oh my  _ gods,  _ the next person who mentions that is going to get kicked in the ass so hard he won’t be able to sit down.”

 

“Don’t swear in front of the children, Jiminnie,” Bambam chides mockingly. Jimin makes a lunge towards him that scares him into jumping away and shrieking, which is a satisfying enough revenge, in his opinion.

 

Still, the feeling doesn’t go away, not even as Jimin pays the bathhouse entry fee and gathers towels for himself and his boys. He supposes maybe it  _ is _ just nerves; he feels particularly tense as he watches the looks on Seungkwan and Seokmin’s faces.

 

 _But then, what do I have to be nervous about? If they fall and get hurt, Bam can always fix them up with some healing magic._ Jimin shakes his head; it can’t be that. _Am I worried about what they’ll think of_ me? Something flutters a little in his stomach, so he guesses that he must be right. It makes sense -- to be worried about giving your children a good experience for them to remember.

 

It doesn’t quite justify the proportion of the anxiety to the actual issue, though. Jimin shoves aside the feelings for later; in the meantime, he has to help Seokmin and Seungkwan undress.

 

At first, Seungkwan is a little squeamish about being naked, but Seokmin’s persistent “it’s fine, nobody cares!” finally convinces him to cooperate. Once the boys are done, Jimin is quick to strip off his clothes and find them a tub to wash in.

 

Apparently, it’s a busy day for the bathhouse; most of the tubs are full of people and conversation. Jimin ends up deciding to just share a tub with Hoseok and his kids (or at least as many as they can fit) to save space and trouble for other customers. Mark and Bambam go off on their own to find a less crowded tub.

 

“Do I just sit here in the water?” Seungkwan asks, once he’s in the tub. He sits slightly hunched over, with his arms folded over his chest. 

 

“No, we’re supposed to scrub each other’s backs!” Seokmin chirps, pointing to a couple of other people nearby as an example; Seungkwan follows with his eyes and nods in understanding. Seokmin seems to be looking around the edge of the tub, and Jimin is about to ask what’s wrong when he says, “Huh, I forgot my towel. Papa, can I use yours?”

 

Jimin grins. “Of course you can, but not before I give you two a good wash myself. I saw you playing outside yesterday in the plants with Mingyu; you’re both dirty.” He grabs his towel and twirls it in the air.

 

The boys both shriek in surprise, and they end up in a game of chase, with Jimin trying to tackle them long enough to scrub behind their ears and beneath their chins -- when they’re caught, Seungkwan and Seokmin laugh and give a mock struggle until it’s clear that they can get away again. It’s cramped, but overall it’s fun; Jimin finds himself relaxing into the warm atmosphere and water slowly as he tries to pin the boys down long enough to  _ clean _ them.

 

After the exhaustive task of playing tag with his kids and cleaning them up, Jimin finds himself wishing he had a little space to wash up himself. He’s about ready to accept that from here on, bath time is no longer  _ his _ time, when Hoseok taps him on the shoulder.

 

“Hey, Jiminnie, if you want to go slip off and just have a minute to yourself, you should go now,” Hoseok says to him, jerking his head up to tell Jimin to go. Grateful, Jimin nods in reply. 

 

“Will you watch them for me?” he asks, wringing out the towel in his hands and preparing to rise out of the water. Seungkwan and Seokmin are preoccupied with blowing bubbles in the water.

 

“Of course. Nothing will happen, I promise. Would you like to meet us in the drying area?”

 

“That sounds perfect.” Before he’s left the tub, Jimin decides it would be best to let his boys know that he’s leaving, and he does so with a light tap on the shoulder. Seungkwan pouts and Seokmin whines, but Hoseok is quick to distract them with some magic, manipulating the water into a little tornado that draws all the children’s attention. Jimin envies Hobi’s easy handling of the children, even without Taehyung there to help.

 

“Thank you,” Jimin whispers to Hoseok as he leaves, grabbing his clothes from the waterside. Hobi just gives him a wink before returning to playing with magic. Jimin gets the feeling Hoseok knows  _ exactly _ what he’s feeling right now -- and he’s quite relieved to have the freedom to himself.

 

Humming, Jimin scans the bathhouse for Bambam and Mark, intent on joining them for a few minutes, at least. He spots them in a tub near the back of the bathhouse, sharing with some people Jimin doesn’t know, but it’s comparatively empty, so he decides it won’t hurt to ask to join for a little bit.

 

_ I guess this is what Hobi meant about being tired, _ Jimin sighs inwardly. And it’s not that he’s done with Seungkwan and Seokmin all of a sudden; he just wants a moment to himself. 

 

_ Well, I made the choice to care for them, and that’s what I’m going to do. I have to put myself second. _

 

He approaches Mark and Bambam’s tub from the front; one of the strangers has his back turned to him, and another is leaning against the side. Bambam is actually washing a third stranger’s back, and Mark is just running water between his fingertips.

 

“Ah, there you guys are! I just finished washing up Seokmin and Seungkwan. Do you mind if I join you?” Jimin calls out when he’s within earshot of the tub. Bambam gives him a big smile and a nod, so Jimin begins his descent into the water.

 

That’s when  _ the feeling _ returns full force, and Jimin nearly stops sliding into the water altogether, suddenly overcome by the nervous twisting in his stomach.  _ It can’t be social anxiety, _ he scoffs to himself -- with how many times he’s been to this place in his life, anxiety over being around strangers is a ridiculous thought.

 

“Jimin, you okay?” Mark glances up at Jimin from his seat.

 

“Yeah, just had this weird feeling. Sorry.” Sheepish over his hesitance, Jimin sits down quickly and tries to relax himself, closing his eyes and breathing slowly.  _ This is so weird. There’s no reason for me to be nervous right now. _

 

But the edgy feeling won’t go away, no matter how hard Jimin tries to control it. He decides perhaps it’s best to just leave and rinse off, but as he prepares to leave Mark chuckles.

 

“Are you really so scared of newcomers?” the blonde man snickers quietly, propping an elbow on the edge of the tub.

 

Jimin glares at him, half-risen out of the water. “Of course not. I just...figured I should go back to help Hoseok.” A very lame excuse, one Mark sees through with ease.

 

“Sit down and relax. You shouldn’t be in a rush to get back to  _ that.” _ Mark drags Jimin down by the arm, until Jimin is sitting again.

 

“Yeah, Jiminnie, you’ll be going home to it again anyways,” Bambam teases from over the water. “Just bask in the freedom you have now.”

 

“Thanks, Bam,” Jimin rolls his eyes, but he tries as best he can to relax again. He shuts his eyes for barely a moment before Bambam splashes water at him. “Hey!” he protests, rubbing water out of his eyelashes. “That was  _ rude.” _

 

“Rude yourself, Park Jimin, for ignoring these nice people with us. They’re travelers. At least say hello before you nod off.” Bambam doesn’t sound the least bit sorry for his transgression -- it’s probably pointless to try and get an apology out of him. The younger man continues talking as though nothing’s wrong (and Jimin isn’t blinking enchanted water out of his eyes). “This here is Jackson, and over there is Yugyeom. And the one sitting next to you -- er, I’m sorry. I forgot your name.”

 

“Nice memory, Bam,” Jimin jokes, but he opens his eyes to glance at the newcomers -- Jackson must be the one having his back washed, and Yugyeom stretching out, and beside him -- 

 

“Oh, that’s right -- he’s Jungkook.”

 

_ No way. No  _ fucking _ way. This can’t be happening. I’m dreaming. This isn’t real. _

 

Jimin double takes, blinking rapidly and scooting away from the person next to him.  _ This has got to be some fucking joke, some illusion my mind’s made up because it’s stressed. _

 

But it’s not an illusion; the person he was just sitting next to is Jeon Jungkook, in the flesh. Jungkook turns a bit towards Jimin, causing the water to ripple and splash gently against the walls, against Jimin’s skin. His eyes are wide and his lips are parted, though no sound leaves them. 

 

_ This is real, _ Jimin’s mind whispers, and he isn’t sure if he wants to faint or scream.

\--

 

There are two thoughts racing through Jeon Jungkook’s head.

 

One: he’s found Park Jimin -- or more like Park Jimin found  _ him,  _ because all Jungkook did was sit around in a tub (except Jimin hasn’t noticed him yet, so perhaps it  _ is _ the other way around).

 

Two: he’s just seen Park Jimin in all his naked, dripping wet glory, and Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get the sight out of his head.

 

_ Not now, _ he screeches at himself.  _ This is  _ not _ the time and Jimin is  _ not _ the person you should be thinking about like  _ that! 

 

Jungkook has never really been put off by his body’s sudden whims, but right now, he’s feeling quite horrified with himself -- he prays as hard as he can to Mivellan for control and virtue, and in desperation to preserve his dignity tries to conjure up the most unappealing images and memories he can to distract himself. 

 

The tactic -- and prayers -- must work, because he’s able to avoid making an absolute embarrassment out of himself.  _ Honestly, _ he scolds himself,  _ you’re acting like a foolish teenager.  _ His miraculous save, however, comes at the expense of his attention. So focused was he on  _ not thinking _ that he’s missed out on whatever’s been said, only catching on to the conversation when Bambam says, “Oh, that’s right -- he’s Jungkook.”

 

It’s like a dream when Jimin turns to look at Jungkook -- their eyes meet at exactly the same time, equally wide and disbelieving, and Jungkook’s gaze feels kind of hazy, like he’s looking through poorly-made glass. The sensation makes him wonder if he’s really dreaming, and is in actuality just asleep in the tub.

 

The dreamy effect is shattered when Jimin coughs into his hand, turning slightly away from the others in the tub to hide his face. 

 

_ This is real. This is very, very real. _ Jungkook’s heart starts to beat quickly, and he is suddenly overcome with emotion -- relief, excitement, anticipation. He feels his cheeks heating with the rush of feelings.  _ I don’t have to look anymore. I’ve found him, finally. _

 

Jungkook very nearly blurts those exact thoughts out loud, but at the last possible second he recovers a shred of his control and chokes down the secrets he cannot share. Instead, he settles for a strained smile, and what he hopes sounds like a casual greeting. “Jeon Jungkook; it’s nice to meet you.”

 

Jimin doesn’t answer right away, just stares at Jungkook like he’s trying to accept that this is real. He seems to collect himself after a few moments, bobbing his head in a nod and murmuring, “Park Jimin.”

 

After that they stare at each other again, for gods know how long. Jungkook feels words building up in the back of his throat, threatening to spill out for the wrong people to hear, and very quickly he decides that he  _ needs _ to leave before he says something to endanger himself or Jimin.

 

“Hey, Kyum,” he says, turning to face Yugyeom.

 

“Hm?” Yugyeom raises an eyebrow, waiting for Jungkook to continue.

 

“I think I’m going to get out. It’s so comfortable I worry I might fall asleep,” Jungkook replies with a small smile, though it’s partly a lie.

 

“Oh, alright. I’ll join you in a few minutes.” With that, Jungkook begins to climb out of the tub, hoping like a fool that Jimin will follow him so they can talk.

 

“Hey, Jiminnie,” Bambam calls out from next to Jackson. “You should go with Jungkook, he might not know where to go. Since you’re so anxious to get out.”

 

“Bam, you’re being rude again.” Mark flicks water over at Bambam, but Jungkook could care less that Bambam’s just been rude --  _ he suggested that Jimin should go with me _ .

 

Jimin starts beside Jungkook, giving Bambam a startled -- almost betrayed, Jungkook notes -- glance. “Well, go on,” Bambam teases. “We’ll catch up with you guys. Besides, you want to get a head start, before Hobi and the kids are all done.”

 

“You’re right,” Jimin mutters; Jungkook watches as his eyes slightly narrow and shoulders hunch in. “I’ll see you all later.” 

 

And then, without any warning whatsoever, Jimin just rises out of the water; Jungkook feels the  _ feeling _ from before come slamming back into his head, and then thoughts that  _ he should not be having _ are traveling straight down south.

 

_ Such a beautiful body, _ one part of him is saying, while the other part is screaming  _ Get a grip! We’re in public! _

 

“Are you coming?” Jimin’s voice is impatient, a tone others will likely perceive as uncalled for but one Jungkook understands completely. Wordlessly, he clambers out of the tub and grabs his clothes, following after Jimin, who’s already walking away. Jungkook thinks he can sense waves of urgency and anxiousness rolling off of Jimin.

 

“Bye, Jungkook! It was nice to meet you,” Bambam calls from behind, before returning to his conversation with Jackson and Yugyeom -- and also leaving Jungkook without  _ any  _ form of distraction.

 

He only has Jimin to look at now, and it’s becoming a real struggle to suffocate his body’s response to such a nice body --  _ no. _

 

_ Twenty years,  _ Jungkook berates himself and his body.  _ Twenty years and you’ve never really had a problem with other people. You had  _ all _ of those years, and you pick  _ now _ to act up. This is humiliating. _

 

He tries his best to focus on the tiles of the bathhouse, keeping his gaze trained on the ground in front of him while still keeping Jimin slightly in view. It was hard enough ignoring how attractive Jimin was before, but now it feels like there’s nothing else Jungkook can see or think about.

 

_ Does he think I’m impressive? _ Jungkook’s mind suddenly frets, and on a subconscious whim, one of his hands flies to his abdomen, feeling the muscle there.

 

_ Not important! _ his sense hisses back, and the completely crazy part of his mind is about to retort when Jimin calls his name.

 

“Jungkook, over here. We rinse before drying off.” Jimin has set his clothes down on a stone counter against the walls, and he’s facing Jungkook but avoiding meeting his eyes (Jungkook, on the other hand, is trying to  _ only _ meet Jimin’s eyes, because looking elsewhere will lead to disaster).

 

Jungkook copies Jimin, setting his clothes down on the counter before following Jimin to a water pump in the center of the room; he watches as Jimin takes a wooden bucket, fills it with water from the pump, and then pours it over his head.

 

_ That’s so attractive, _ Jungkook thinks, before his common sense can give in.  _ No! For fuck’s sake,  _ stop, _ please.  _ Before he loses all of his dignity, Jungkook rushes to rinse beside Jimin, grabbing an unused bucket and filling it with water. He’s facing away from Jimin when the latter mutters, “I  _ told _ you not to look for me.”

 

It’s an accusation, and Jungkook feels his heart sink; of  _ course _ Jimin is upset. He was stupid for thinking otherwise, thinking that Jimin might be wanting to see him again. “I’m sorry,” Jungkook says back quietly -- the sound of running water obscures their voices from unwanted ears. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

 

“How romantic,” Jimin snorts back, filling his bucket with water again before pouring it over his head; some of the water splashes onto Jungkook. He flinches at the contact. “So are you here just to see me, or have you come to force information out of me?”

 

At that, Jungkook blanches, all while pouring water over himself.  _ What do I say? _ he thinks, feeling panic rising in his chest.  _ I’d give us away, but I don’t...I don’t want to lie. _

 

Jimin picks up on Jungkook’s dilemma easily, throwing him a sideway glance. “If you’re here for information, you can leave. I might like you enough to leave you alive, but I won’t give anything away.”

 

Jimin’s answer brings back Jungkook’s most shameful memory -- the one in which he blurted out exactly what Jimin wanted to hear without a second thought.  _ What do I do now? I can’t lie, but I can’t tell the truth either. _

 

So he gives the best answer he possibly can, one that’s truthful, but not revealing his mission. “I’m here for you,” Jungkook whispers, almost too quiet for himself to hear. Too late does he realize that even though he’s covered for himself and his two friends, he will now probably be risking Jimin’s wrath.

 

“Cheeky  _ bastard,” _ Jimin says, sounding annoyed, but less so than Jungkook had feared (he breathes a soft sigh of relief). “Jungkook, you can’t just do that. You can’t just…” Jimin turns to Jungkook, looking into his eyes, before looking away again.

 

“Can’t what?” Jungkook interrupts. “Can’t come to talk with someone I consider a friend? Can’t seek advice from the only person who understands me?” he asks, setting down the bucket and trying to catch Jimin’s gaze again.

 

“No! No, you  _ can’t _ do that _. _ You shouldn’t  _ be _ here. I -- I shouldn’t even be  _ letting  _ you be here. I should be raising the alarm.” Jungkook feels his stomach twist with another wave a panic.  _ He knows. _ Jimin turns away and reaches for his clothes, looking ready to leave. Jungkook feels frantic; his chance to speak with Jimin is slipping through his fingers.

 

“I’m only -- ” But Jimin doesn’t give him the chance to finish, just whips around and glares at him -- dark brown eyes filled with something Jungkook can’t place.

 

_ “Don’t _ lie to me, Jeon Jungkook. I’ve seen through the lies of men  _ far _ less honest than you. I thought you were better than that.” Jimin yanks his clothes from the counter, practically storming out of the rinsing area to whatever room comes next.    
  


“No, wait -- ” Jungkook snags his own things and runs after Jimin.

 

He finds Jimin in the next room, drying himself with a towel, rubbing it furiously over his hair. When he notices Jungkook, he turns away and begins to pull on his clothes. Jungkook hurries over to Jimin’s side, feeling sick to his stomach when Jimin inches away-- which confuses him. He’s been rejected before by Jimin (he thinks back to their previous meetings) but never before has it quite  _ hurt _ so much.

 

And that begs the question:  _ why does it even hurt at all? _

 

“Jimin,” Jungkook pleads, praying to Mivellan that Jimin will listen. “Hear me out, please. You’re the only one who understands what I have to say.”

 

Maybe it’s just Jungkook’s imagination -- but he thinks he sees Jimin pause his motions for a heartbeat.

 

“I need to talk to you; you’re the only one who will know what to do.” The words just fall off of Jungkook’s lips; the thought of the artifact, his mission, floats around in his mind, but in this moment, he only sees Jimin.

 

The way his shoulders tense visibly, despite the haze of steam from the baths. The way water runs from his hair down to his face, and rolls down to his chin in small droplets. The obvious way he is trying to control his breathing, clenching a balled-up shirt in his right hand.

 

“Jimin,” Jungkook says quietly. “Please.”

 

There’s no response, for a long time. Jimin eventually goes back to putting on his clothes (reminding Jungkook to do the same; he hastily dries himself off and tugs on his own). Jungkook is tying his belt around his waist when Jimin turns to face him again.

 

“I wish I could hate you. I wish I could get my act together and tell my unit you’re here. I wish I was heartless enough to just kill you -- no. I wish I had been heartless enough to kill you that night on the river,” Jimin mutters lowly, eyes narrowed as he stares at Jungkook.

 

“But you aren’t,” Jungkook breathes back.

 

“Oh, don’t act like  _ you’re _ any better. Look, if you want to talk to me, we can’t talk here. This is going to be  _ strictly _ between us, and there will be  _ no _ talk of war or information. If you mess up, I’ll give you and your friends all over to my unit leader.” Jungkook feels his heart drop, and it must show on his face, because Jimin gives a humorless smile. “I could tell Yugyeom and Jackson were with you from the moment I saw you; they always say to travel in threes.”

 

“We…we won’t make trouble,” Jungkook blurts out, before he even has the chance to figure out  _ how _ he and his friends are going to avoid trouble. On their mission, conflict with Jimin and his unit will be unavoidable, especially if Jimin’s unit  _ does _ have the artifact.

 

And then Jungkook wonders: is the unit here, in the city? Are they watching him now? Have they  _ been _ watching him?

 

“No need to worry your pretty head, we haven’t been watching you. I had no idea you were here until I ran into you in the bath.” Jimin is flippant, shrugging up the sleeves of his tunic.

 

Arguably, Jungkook’s first thought -- or feeling, really -- should be “well, you know we’re here  _ now, _ and that’s just going to mean trouble.” 

 

In reality, his first thought is  _ he called me pretty, _ followed by  _ bath, _ which in turn is followed by a slew of thoughts he assumed had gone away.

 

“Hrng,” he grunts, in an actual attempt to contain himself. Jimin gives him a strange look.

 

“Are you okay?” the archer asks, halfway through pulling on his boots (which really  _ do _ look good on his calves). “You know a tunic needs to be pulled down all the way.”

 

“Oh, um,” Jungkook stammers, realizing that his tunic isn’t even halfway down his chest. He tugs it into place hastily -- there’s a blush on his cheeks, but he can’t tell if it’s from his own embarrassment or if it’s from the fact that Jimin had a very clear view of his body.

 

Thankfully, Jimin shrugs his blunder off, tying his boots. “If you’re so desperate to see me again, meet me on Laurel Way at the moon’s third placement tonight; you’d better be alone, otherwise I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

 

“Um,” Jungkook says again, before realizing this requires a more coherent answer. “Yes. Of course. Laurel Way, right? I’ll be there. Yes.”

 

“Don’t make it sound weird,” Jimin grumbles. “Now don’t talk to me again.”

 

“Wait, what? Don’t talk -- I thought I was supposed to -- ”

 

“Oh my  _ gods, _ you dolt. I meant not in public, alright? I don’t want to risk anything, and if you’re thinking things through, you shouldn’t want to either. Now leave me alone, I have things to do tonight.” 

 

And then Jimin is gone, slipping out of the room without another word. Jungkook just stands there, watching him leave, surrounded by nothing but steam and strangers.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment! i'd love to hear about what you guys think :)


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